


Logic of a Dream

by Rotisserie_Cassowary



Series: Madrigal [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, BDSM, Complete, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Roleplay, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 51
Words: 102,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9300992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rotisserie_Cassowary/pseuds/Rotisserie_Cassowary
Summary: Separated by the demands of their own lives, Hermione and Severus are forced to confront the ramifications of their relationship:How long will the Dark Lord allow their illicit affair to continue?What if someone from the Order discovers their secret?How are they going to destroy the Horcruxes when they don't even know what the fuck half of them are?And what the bloody hell are they supposed to do about Dumbledore now?





	1. I'm So Tired (Severus)

“Do you, Severus Tobias Snape, hereby vow to serve Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loyally, thoughtfully, and to the utmost of your abilities?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Severus Tobias Snape, hereby vow to honor the traditions of the Four Founders and the policies set forth by the Board of Governors?”

“I do.”

 “And do you, Severus Tobias Snape, hereby vow to defend the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even at risk of your own demise?”

“I do.”

“Very well. We hereby pronounce you, Severus Tobias Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts and all her holdings. May you serve long and well.” The web of thousands upon thousands of streaming, multicolored lights faded out of being as we lowered our wands. I felt the weight of the spell on my chest and shoulders; my neck was straining with the awesome responsibility which had been entrusted to me. I could feel the castle wards pulling on me, already draining my magic reserves, leaving me far more exhausted and irritable than I had anticipated.

I gave a solemn bow, glancing up respectfully at the twelve black-robed figures arrayed before me. The men’s faces were inscrutable, obscured as they were by the newfound gloom in the windowless dungeon. The Governors proceeded gradually out of the small courtroom, many of them suspiciously silent and blank-faced. The last to leave was the man who had replaced Lucius Malfoy on the board- Tiberius McLaggen. I wondered absently whether the Dark Lord had placed him under the Imperius Curse, or if he were following commands of his own accord.

The handsome man’s golden eyes glittered dangerously as he gave me a quick, predatory smile across the darkened room. He winked sarcastically, then followed the other men from the room. _Well, that settles that. He’s perfectly willing to betray Scrimgeour- one of his oldest and closest friends. Good to know what I’m dealing with at least._

As I trudged out of the dungeon courtroom, I wanted nothing more than to continue on down the passageway to my laboratory. I simply wanted to flop down at Hermione’s desk, get completely wasted, and pass out slumped over in her chair- right where I had spent the majority of my nights in the past few weeks. But no... I was Headmaster now. I had a fancy new office and enormous quarters to occupy.

 I have never been one to appreciate change. I am more than a little ashamed to admit how elated I was to return to Hogwarts as a professor. Not because I enjoy teaching (hell fucking no), but because I was back in the one place that had ever felt like home to me. Being ensconced once more within those dark dungeons felt like a warm, motherly hug. Something about those thick stone walls, the low ceilings, the narrow passageways, made me feel safe. But now I had to live in what I very much considered **Dumbledore’s Bedroom** , with its vaulted ceilings, 5-meter tall windows, and glittering stained glass. _Just kill me now._

I refused to give up my private lab, but I dutifully moved my few personal belongings from my quarters into Dumbledore’s… no, wait, MY bedroom. The old man’s bed was a ridiculous California-King-sized monstrosity, heavily carved with floral motifs and phoenixes. Rolling my eyes at the ostentatiousness of the man’s taste, I vanished every last piece, sending them into storage in the dungeons. I had opted to bring up the simple furniture from my old quarters, but the room felt quite sparse with nothing but my modest bed, wardrobe, medicine cabinet, and chaise lounge. I looked around at the largely empty, brightly-lit room and scowled. _First thing I need to do is buy some fucking curtains. I already have a headache from all this accursed sunshine. How do people put up with it all the damn time?!_

 

A few hours later I found myself in the Great Hall, reluctantly addressing the roundtable of Hogwarts faculty. The professors watched me raptly- some faces far more leery than others. As Deputy Headmistress, Minerva had been universally assumed to be Dumbledore’s successor. The Governors’ unexpected decision had raised the hackles of many in the wizarding community, including many of the professors themselves. Why would the Governors opt for an incredibly young (by wizarding standards), inexperienced, and, frankly, unpleasant wizard over Minerva? She possessed everything I lacked: a calming presence, respect from the wizarding community, decades of experience...

I had absolutely no way to defend myself to my colleagues, so I simply opted out. _It’s not my job to justify myself to them. So what if they think I don’t deserve the post? I_ **_don’t_ ** _deserve it. I’m not qualified. I don’t even want it. Let them hate me._

I cleared my bone-dry throat, which was beginning to seize up with performance anxiety. I managed a small calming breath and began to speak, quietly and with more than a little menace in my tone, “Thank you for joining me tonight. I’m **well** aware of the countless inquiries and opinions floating about the castle at the moment... I am here to tell you that they WILL. NOT. BE. TOLERATED,” I annunciated slowly. I paused for effect, making eye contact with each individual seated around the table, raising my brows in warning.

“I am instituting an official ban on any and all political talk- effective immediately. Any individual found to be violating this gag order will be removed from the premises. Permanently,” I growled, looking around accusingly, daring anyone to speak out of turn. Their mouths all remained blessedly shut. “Furthermore, Professors are now banned from leaving Hogwarts grounds.”

A general outcry exploded around me, and I brought my fist down on the table, rattling the plates and upsetting a few goblets of wine. Spittle flew from my mouth as I bellowed, “SILENCE!!!” Those assembled quieted immediately, alarm apparent on every face. I repeated slowly, venomously, “Professors. Are. Banned. From. Leaving. Hogwarts.” I looked around the room with narrowed eyes, daring anyone to speak out of turn again.

When no one made a peep, I continued, “If you have good cause to leave school grounds, you will be accompanied by a contingent of aurors. YOU are the most valuable asset in all of wizarding Britain right now, do you understand that? All it would take would be one of you being Imperiused- or killed and Polyjuiced- and this entire institution would come crumbling down! Our security would be irretrievably compromised.”

 “Many of you will disagree with this assessment. Many of you will think that you’re plenty powerful enough to remain safe outside the gates on your own. Many of you believe your personal liberties are more crucial than the safety of this school. But you would be wrong on all counts. **We are at war.** The importance of Hogwarts cannot be overstated, and I will not allow ANY of you to compromise the safety of our students. Our duty is to the children, and to this institution. I won’t be taking any questions. Enjoy your dinner.”

 I swept from the Great Hall, robes billowing dramatically behind me. As the doors slammed shut, I heard a clamor of voices break out in the Hall. Above it all, I could hear Minerva’s brogue, scolding with an emphatic, “He’s right! You lot KNOW he’s right! Stop acting like petulant children!” With a tiny, warm glow in my chest from the witch’s loyalty, I proceeded up to my new quarters and drank truly irresponsible volumes of firewhiskey in a futile attempt to wipe the entire goddamned day from my memory.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Don't sue me!
> 
> Here's a link to a Spotify playlist of the songs I used for chapter titles, if you have any interest:
> 
> https://play.spotify.com/user/us1461620/playlist/5xlVOc9N0WdFnpPh2RVv7t


	2. Lonesome (Hermione)

_Not even three weeks! It hasn’t even been three weeks since I saw him last, and I’m going completely insane!_  I was staring despondently at my planner, having just counted out the days since Dumbledore’s funeral.

 _What is_ **_wrong_ ** _with me?! I always made fun of girls who did nothing but think about boys all day long! How many times did I snap at Parvati and Lavender in the dormitory for their incessant boy talk?! I’m pathetic…_

I was sitting cross-legged on my bed in Ginny’s room, and the sun was beginning to peek through the drawn shades. Ginny was snoring across the room, blissfully dead to the world, whereas I was on my second night in a row of being utterly incapable of falling asleep. I huffily yanked up my covers, which had been kicked to the floor hours before during a temper-tantrum.

_What kind of wimpy girl is so hung up on missing a guy that she can’t sleep for DAYS?! I hate myself so much right now. So. Freaking. MUCH._

I stood up with a final huff of frustration, pulling my dressing gown over my pajamas and sliding my feet into my tattered blue slippers. I padded down the rickety staircase as my stomach continued with its now-typical routine of butterflies and generalized nausea. Mrs. Weasley was up with the sun as always, flitting energetically about the kitchen, humming to herself, and brewing coffee.

“Good morning, sunshine!” she called out when she saw me sinking moodily into a kitchen chair. “You have been getting up even earlier than usual this summer,” she observed. I shrugged vaguely, taking the cup of coffee she offered me, already thoughtfully fixed up with my preferred amount of cream and sugar.

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I dunno. I’m just having trouble sleeping lately. Everything that’s going on, ya know?” Molly nodded knowingly. Her eyes darted towards her special clock, as they did every few seconds like a nervous tic.

Mr. Weasley came downstairs shortly after I did, freshly showered and dressed for work. I watched the two of them out of the corner of my eye- the way they found excuses to touch, their quick pecks, the way Arthur casually brushed his hand across her bottom as he moved past her. They embraced for a long moment before he opened the back door and strode out, waving goodbye to me with his sack lunch.

 _Gods, what I wouldn’t give to have that kind of relationship- that level of comfort and familiarity. It’s so hard to imagine Severus ever being a_ **_husband_** _, though. And I certainly wouldn’t be a housewife, bidding him farewell as he went out to actually_ **_do_ ** _things with his life. It’s much easier imagining us like my parents… Business partners as well as partners in life. They’re true equals. And they didn’t even decide to get married until well after I was born. Mom always said she finally decided to go for it so that their taxes would be quicker to do._  I chuckled quietly to myself, remembering how my mom’s practical, business-like bearing contrasted so sharply with my father’s emotional, expressive nature. But then I was hit by a sudden wave of melancholy, remembering that it could be years before I saw them again.

I had fallen back into my bottomless pit of depression by the time the others began stirring. I found it easy to disappear in a kitchen stuffed full of rambunctious Weasleys, so their appearance was welcome enough. I picked over my beans, tomatoes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, moving them around my plate to give the impression of eating. When Fred greedily asked me if I was “gonna finish that”, I shook my head, shoving the plate across the table to him. He began to wolf them down, and I took my leave of the kitchen.

I changed into denim shorts and an old Girl Guides t-shirt. It still fit me, though it was just a bit too short, as all my t-shirts had become over the past year. My late growth spurt had only been vertical, much to my displeasure. I turned to the side, examining myself in the full-length mirror. _Gods, what I wouldn’t give for a rack like Ginny’s… or an arse like Parvati’s… I’m nearly 18, and I still look like a bloody little girl._

Sighing dejectedly and tugging my t-shirt down, I grabbed my stationery set and stuck a pair of pens in my back pocket. Holding my trainers in hand, I tip-toed down those ridiculous, creaky stairs and out the front door. Pulling my shoes on quickly, I jogged around the side of the house, looking around carefully before slipping into Mr. Weasley’s tinkering shed.

Hundreds of muggle ‘artifacts’ hung all over the walls and teetered precariously in piles on shelves. Most of them were useless rubbish, but who was I to discourage a man’s hobby? I cleared a spot on the workbench and laid out my accoutrements. I removed the shrinking charm from Severus’s letters, reverentially arranging the five of them in front of myself. I re-read them all, as I had done at least a dozen times before. Seeing his familiar spiky handwriting stirred such bittersweet emotions in my chest that I had to take a second to force back a sob that was threatening to spill from my throat. _Stop it. Stop it. This is not a big deal. Stop it._

I began writing my eleventh?... twelfth?... whatever…. letter to Severus, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt. I rewrote the greeting a half-dozen times alone, unable to decide between “Dear Severus,” “Dearest Severus,” and “My love,”. With a huff of annoyance, I simply began it “S-”. _Good enough._

 

 

 

> S-
> 
> How did your swearing-in ceremony go? Does it look like every last one of the Governors has been Imperiused by now? How are the other professors taking the news?
> 
> Things are fine here. Boring. Never know what to do with myself without homework. What do normal people fill their days with, anyway? I’ve read every last book in the entire Burrow now, even Mrs. Weasley’s frightfully sexist magical housekeeping books!
> 
> I couldn’t sleep again last night. Kept thinking about you. Don’t have much of an appetite. Maybe I’m coming down with something?
> 
> Anyway, sorry to be a downer. I know you’re dealing with all sorts of craziness at the castle. I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling a couple of grumpy old professors, though. Just give them that patented Snape glare and they’ll shut right up, I guarantee you!
> 
> I’m thinking of you always.
> 
> With love,
> 
> H
> 
>  

I read and re-read the short missive an embarrassing number of times. _Is it casual enough? I’ve sent like twice as many letters as he has, and I don’t want to seem clingy. Every letter he’s sent me has been way longer, though, so maybe it evens out? Ahhhh!! I don’t know how any of this works!!!!_

After a long period of internal debate, and once nearly crumpling it up and starting over, I finally slid the folded note into an envelope and addressed the letter to Severus’s PO Box in Hogsmeade. I affixed a stamp to the corner, then slid it into my back pocket. I peeked my head out of the shed, making sure there were no witnesses. I slipped out the door,  jogging at a healthy clip across the front yard and down the lane. Once I turned the corner out of sight of the house, I slowed down and breathed a sigh of relief. _Another successful escape._

As always, the 30 minute walk into Ottery St Catchpole was the highlight of my day. We weren’t supposed to be going into the village alone, but there was no good excuse for why I was sending and receiving Muggle post so frequently.  (My parents only wrote me about once a month, as mail service was very hit-or-miss in sub-Saharan Africa.) Instead, I opted to simply sneak out of the Burrow nearly every morning in the hopes that a letter would be waiting for me. He hadn’t written nearly as much as I would have liked, but I knew my expectations were skewed.

_He’s a very busy, very important man. He has better things to do with his time than write to a heartsick teenage girl. If you want there to be any hope of him seeing you as anything but a fling, you have to prove you’re mature enough to handle the demands of being with someone like him. It’s not about you. It’s about the bloody future of all wizarding kind!_

Yet no matter how I often I repeated this mantra to myself, I couldn’t help but obsess. _Is he thinking about me? Does he miss me? What is he doing right now?_

I was trapped in this ridiculous ouroboros of self-recrimination and girlish obsession when I opened my PO Box. There was a single slip of paper inside. Upon further inspection, I realized it was a package slip. I took it to the old muggle woman behind the counter who never seemed to remember me, despite the fact that I saw her practically every day.

She disappeared into the back for an exceptionally long time considering the storage room was barely larger than my closet at my parents’ house. I tapped my toe and fidgeted, picking at my tattered cuticles. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she emerged with a package about the size of a shoebox. I traded the slip for the package, and nearly sprinted out of the post office.

I ran around the corner, concealing myself in a copse of trees behind the building. I tore off the plain brown paper, throwing it hastily over my shoulder. It was just a simple, nondescript cardboard box. My curiosity waning only slightly, I quickly ripped off the tape and looked inside. I let out a gleeful squeak, seeing that Severus had extended the box’s interior. I reached in and pulled out giant book after giant book- this one on advanced Healing Charms, that one on Vampire Rights activism, this one obviously full of dark magic judging by the protective runes decorating the cover. I burst into a fit of giggles when I found a copy of a popular trashy muggle romance novel that was well known for its hilariously bad BDSM sex scenes.

He had sent me no fewer than two dozen books altogether, none of which I had seen before. And each of them sounded more interesting than the last (with the exception of the romance novel- which I would probably still pick up eventually since I’m physically incapable of leaving a book unread).

Tears of joy were streaming down my cheeks, and I hugged two of the largest books to my chest, practically swooning. I carefully repacked the box, grinning like an idiot the entire time. Remembering that my letter was still in my pocket, I pulled it out and carefully eased it open with my finger. I hastily scrawled a postscript:

 

 

>  
> 
> PS. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR THE BOOKS!!!! How did you know I was going crazy without new reading material?!?! I can’t wait to read them all! Especially a certain one… (wink wink). Are you trying to make me miss you even worse than I already am? ‘Cause it’s hard enough as it is not to think about the last time we saw each other... Do you realize that I can’t even see a freaking TREE now without remembering you picking me up and pressing me against one?! It makes hikes in the woods rather awkward. Anyway, THANK YOU again! You have no idea how much this means to me. I love you!

 

Before I could reconsider what I’d written, I shoved it back inside the envelope and re-sealed it with a poke of the wand. I put my letter through the outgoing slot in the post office, then practically skipped back to the Burrow.

I was floating on metaphorical clouds as I shrank the box and tucked it carefully away in my pocket. I snuck through the cornfields around to the back of the house and sprawled into the tall grass in a quiet corner of the humongous yard. I had intended to pull out one of my new books, but I ended up just lying there for hours- staring up at the clouds and daydreaming, beaming like a lunatic the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Don't sue me!


	3. From Me to You (Severus)

When I finally made it down to the Hogsmeade Post Office, there were already two letters from Hermione waiting for me. My heart leapt into my throat at the sight, but I schooled my features into an expressionless masque. I gave a business-like nod to the wizard behind the desk in the impossibly tiny building and set off down the lane at a rapid clip.

I ripped open her first letter as I walked, allowing myself a small smile at the effusive gratitude for the books I had sent her. I had known she would be bereft, trapped in a life of leisure with no work to be done. I’ve always been the same way. There’s nothing worse than free time.

I was concerned that she wasn’t eating or sleeping, though. _She is already so slim, she can hardly stand to be missing meals. Not that I’m one to talk. I don’t think I’ve had a proper meal since being named Headmaster._

I ripped open her second letter, and I got angrier and angrier as I read, culminating in my nearly apparating to the Burrow on the spot.

  

 

> S-
> 
> THANK YOU again for those amazing books! I’ve already finished three of them! Being awake all night is so much more bearable with reading material.
> 
> Things are weird here. Ron has taken to following me around, so it’s getting harder and harder to sneak out to write you. He sits beside me at every meal, and he’s always stalking me when I try to find a place outside to hide and read. I try to hang out with Ginny, but she talks so much that it gets exhausting after awhile, you know?
> 
> Anyway, I really loved Septimus Shrake’s theories on the exponential decline of nutritional content in food that’s been multiplied by magic. I’ve often wondered about the conflict between the Law of Conservation of Energy and our ability to duplicate items almost infinitely. The laws of thermodynamics and magic seem to preclude the existence of one another, yet we know that both are true! Very interesting stuff. I’d love to discuss it in person with you; I have SO many ideas!
> 
> Please write to me as soon as you can manage. I want to know how everything at Hogwarts is going! I’m worried about you!
> 
> With love,
> 
> H
> 
> PS. Try not to get all weird about the Ron stuff. I don’t think he means anything by it. His best friend isn’t here, and his brothers all have jobs now, so he’s just trying to fill that void. But the other night I swear he walked into the bathroom while I was showering on purpose. He claimed he thought George was in there, but everyone knew George was working late doing inventory that night! I don’t know. I’m probably being crazy. I just wish Harry was here. It’s so weird without him as a buffer.

 

I felt my pulse pounding erratically in my temple, and the only sound I could decipher was a high-pitched, insistent ringing in my ears. The paper shook in my hands as I took one deep breath after another, desperately willing myself to remain calm. _She’s not receptive to his advances. She’s not interested in him. She’s just telling you to vent her frustrations. She’d never forgive you if you stormed in there and made a scene. What would your excuse be for why you knew or cared about him bothering her? He’s not going to hurt her. You have to trust her. If you don’t keep your psychotic jealousy in check, she’s going to turn tail and run as fast as she can._ **_Don’t fuck this up._**

As I approached the Hogwarts gates, I could make out a willowy, silver-blonde figure leaning casually against a nearby cedar. Narcissa strode up and pulled me into a warm, motherly hug. “I figured if I just loitered around the entrance long enough somebody would find me. So sorry I haven’t gotten a chance to speak with you properly yet,” she apologized as she held me at arm’s length, scrutinizing my features. “You look like shite, Severus,” she said seriously.

“It’s because my **life** is shite, Cissy,” I sighed wearily, leaning against the fence beside her.

“Yes, it’s been a rather eventful couple of weeks, hasn’t it?” she understated quite characteristically.

“How’s Draco doing?”

“He should be out of juvenile detention by early next month. The judges have been thoroughly convinced that none of his actions, including taking the Dark Mark, have been done of his own accord.”

“Thank Merlin for expensive barristers,” I joked drily.

“I hear you there,” she replied with a pained look. She had always been the tight-fisted one in the relationship, constantly having to tell Lucius that he didn’t need yet another pair of patent leather Gucci loafers.

“So have you come to remove the Unbreakable Vow now that Dumbledore has been taken care of?”

“That **is** why I’m here, as a matter of fact,” she said shrewdly. “Most of the time the charm fades gradually once the Vow has been fulfilled. I felt the bond between us loosen significantly during the night that Draco was on the Astronomy Tower. However, it never completely evaporated as I had expected it to…”

I rubbed my face exhaustedly and after a brief internal debate, I opted for the simpler option: the truth. I looked into the striking woman’s blue-grey eyes, “Because Dumbledore isn’t completely dead yet. I dosed him with a fatal poison, but he still has some time left. I fulfilled the requirements of the Vow, but the receipts haven’t quite gone through yet... so to speak.”

After a moment of quiet contemplation, she nodded. “Good enough for me. I didn’t even want to put you under the Vow to begin with. Bella forced the issue because she doesn’t trust you.”

“Well, even a broken clock is right twice a day,” I muttered.

Narcissa smiled at me sadly, “How I wish that weren’t an uncomfortably relevant statement.”

She reached for me, and I clasped her delicate forearm tightly in my callused fingers. She did likewise as we grasped our wands in our non-dominant hands. We touched our wandtips to our joined arms, and she announced smoothly, “I, Narcissa Black Malfoy, release you from your Unbreakable Vow. I declare your task fulfilled.” I responded, “I, Severus Tobias Snape, have performed your task to the best of my ability. I accept your release.” Suddenly, that enormous weight, the one that'd been there so long that I no longer even noticed it, lifted off of my chest. I took my first nearly-unburdened breath in almost a year; it was sheer ecstasy.

“Goddamn, that feels good,” I groaned, stretching my arms above my head and taking in another deep breath. She smiled at me sadly, and there was a note of apology in her voice as she bade me farewell. She gave me another quick hug, ignoring my stiffness and protestations as always, and apparated away.

The appearance of Cissy had been a welcome distraction, but now that she was gone my thoughts inevitably circled back to Hermione. My mind replayed the dozens of times I had seen her laugh at a joke that Weasley wanker had made, punched him in the arm, held his hand in the hospital wing, kissed him on the cheek affectionately... There was an ever-widening hole in my gut, so I skipped lunch, unwilling to sit there picking over my food and being glowered at by mutinous professors.

I sulked in my office for the rest of the day and attempted to make a dent in the mound of new admissions paperwork I had to get through. But trying to focus my thoughts was like trying to scoop sand in a sieve. I gave up after a couple unproductive hours, pulling a pack of heavy muggle paper and a ballpoint pen out of my bottom desk drawer. I gathered my thoughts as best I could and began to write,

 

 

> My Dearest Hermione,
> 
> I am so very pleased that you liked your gift. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, after all. I thought that you would enjoy Shrake’s ideas. I, myself, have always been fascinated by the intersection between physics and magic. It seems to me that magic can bend the laws of physics, but rarely can it utterly break them. It just goes to show how flexible the universe really is at the quantum level. For instance- is our perception of time actually real? Many believe that our brains  are so limited that we simply _perceive_ time as linear, and in actuality every single moment is happening concurrently. This theory would explain away the apparent physical impossibility of a Time Turner. You’re not actually _moving_ through time, as it were. You’re simply awakening at a different point in your own _perceived_ timeline. You’re still in the exact same “place” you were before, the change only happened inside your mind. But this is a topic better discussed in person over a big, fat joint.
> 
> Hogwarts is a shit-show at the moment, thanks for asking. Pretty much everyone despises me, though that’s hardly a departure from the norm. I think it’s only McGonagall’s support of my administration that’s keeping the mutiny at bay. I have forbidden the professors from leaving school grounds without auror escort, and I’ve had hell to pay for that. Would they rather be captured by the Dark Lord? Brutally raped by his minions? Swallowed alive by his serpent? Why don’t people understand that sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do for the greater good?! I’ve done nothing but sacrifice, day in and day out, for the benefit of wizarding kind! These wimps can’t spend a summer trapped in the most beautiful castle in all of Scotland?! They’re too good to sunbathe by a loch instead of an ocean?! Honestly, the softness of other wizards never ceases to amaze me. When I was a kid, I’d have given ANYTHING to spend my summers at Hogwarts. And the castle is so much more... _alive_ when the students are gone. I could swear I’ve heard her whispering to me as I’ve roamed the halls late at night.
> 
> You need to eat, Hermione. I’ll be quite displeased if you’ve wasted away to nothing the next time I see you. But I know precisely how you feel. I’m sick with longing for you, my darling girl. Right now I’m neglecting at least four or five duties in order to write to you. And I can’t even bring myself to feel guilty about it. If this were someone else’s life, I’d scoff at their sentimentality. And yet here I find myself- scribbling clandestine love letters to the girl I fancy, ignoring the enormous pile of “homework” on my desk. Isn’t it ironic how sometimes life makes your worst nightmare come true, only for you to realize that it’s actually been your wildest dream all along?
> 
> All of my love,
> 
> Severus
> 
> PS. I’m trying my very hardest to refrain from commenting disparagingly about Mister Weasley. I will just say that I disapprove of this development in the strongest of terms. I trust your judgement, and I know that you can take care of yourself. But it doesn’t mean that I’m pleased to have you sharing a bathroom and spending every night right across the hallway from him.
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Don't sue me!


	4. One for the Road (Hermione)

The first week of June came with fog, thunderstorms, and a general malaise. I was staring moodily out the living room window, willing the incessant rain to _just freaking go away already_. I couldn’t shake the feeling that a letter could be waiting for me at the Post Office. But there I sat- trapped in the house with the others, each of us going steadily more and more stir-crazy.

I was mired in internal debate about how obvious a water-repelling charm on my hair would be to the muggles around the village, and if doing so would be a violation of the International Statute of Secrecy. But then my stalker appeared right on schedule. “Boo!!” Ron bleated, attempting to startle me, but I had heard him sneaking up on me all the way from the staircase. “Hey, Ron,” I groaned wearily, still staring out the window.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked, sidling up next to me to look out over the dreary greyness I was so carefully examining. I shrugged noncommittally in response.

“Well, hey, I bribed Fred and George to buy a bottle of mead for me. Me and Ginny are gonna go hide from Mum in the attic and get trashed! Wanna come?”

I looked over at him then, and I couldn’t help but return his mischievous grin. “Fine. Fine,” I sighed, and he let out a whoop of victory.

A few minutes later the three of us were seated cross-legged on the floor of the dusty old attic. The ghoul was safely locked away in his trunk, napping the afternoon away. As Ron yanked the cork from the bottle of honey wine, Ginny squealed with excitement, “Ooooh, we should play a game!!”

“Oh my gods, yes!!” Ron agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically. I shrugged vaguely. “Come on, ‘Mione, cheer up!” Ron said as he handed the bottle to me, “You get first drink!”

“You didn’t bring glasses?” I asked, wrinkle of disapproval between my brows.

“Oh, lighten up, Mum!” Ginny laughed, shoving me playfully on the shoulder. I nodded and took a sip from the bottle. The room-temperature alcohol made me gag slightly, but the lingering aftertaste of honey was quite pleasant. I let out a little cough and handed the bottle to Ginny. She took a drink as well, making a grimace and asking, “So what game should we play? Truth or Dare? Never Have I Ever?”

“Anything but Truth or Dare!!” I snapped hurriedly.

Ginny cracked up, agreeing, “Ok, Never Ever it is! I’ll start! Hmm… give me a minute… OK! Never have I ever gone to class with a hangover!” Ron, predictably, took a huge gulp from the bottle.

“My turn next,” Ron claimed. “Uhhhh… Never have I ever snogged someone in the Burrow!” Ginny glared at him, taking a large swallow from the bottle without breaking eye contact. “That was a little pointed,” she whispered to me bitterly. The two of them stared at me expectantly as the wheels turned sluggishly in my mind.

“Gods, this is harder than I thought!” I exclaimed. “It shouldn’t be that hard for you, ‘Mione. You’re about as innocent as they come!” Ginny laughed.

Refraining from telling her just how wrong she was, I finally spoke, “Never have I ever snogged a Hogwarts student!” The other two took enormous swigs from the bottle as I giggled.

“Oooh! Oooh! I’ve got it!” Ginny shouted excitedly, “Never have I ever touched a penis!”

Ron glared at her, “It doesn’t count if it’s my own!”

“No it totally counts!!!” Ginny and I shouted in unison.

Ron took a swig from the bottle and started to set it back down in the center of the circle, but I grabbed it and took a sizable drink myself. Ginny and Ron stared at me in slack-jawed amazement. Finally Ginny gasped, scandalized, “HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!!!”

“No questions! It’s against the rules!” I cried out, waving my hands in front my face, heading off the interrogation that I knew was coming. But Ginny and Ron continued to gape at me in disbelief. “Come on. Ron’s turn!”

He shook his head dazedly, finally speaking after a few awkward seconds, “Never have I ever seen someone of the opposite sex completely naked.” Ginny remained stock-still as I reached for the bottle. The two of them let out enormous whoops of triumph. I blushed intensely as I took multiple large swallows from the bottle. When I set it back down, they were both grinning at me expectantly.

I hid my beet-red face behind my hands as I mumbled, “Never have I ever pretended to be asleep to avoid a significant other.” Ginny cackled evilly as Ron took several large glugs of mead.

Ginny looked at me shrewdly, “Never have I ever had an orgasm from another person.” I alone reached for the bottle again, and Ginny and Ron clapped. I took drink after drink, trying in vain to delay the moment I’d have to make eye contact with them. When I set the half-empty bottle down finally, Ginny’s eyes were glittering with curiosity and Ron’s face was inscrutable.

After a long minute, Ron finally spoke in a measured tone, “Never have I ever snogged more than one person.”

“Wait, more than one at a time?! Is that even possible?!?!” Ginny giggled impishly.

Ron rolled his eyes, “Obviously not, Ginevra. More than one in your LIFE.” Ginny immediately grabbed the bottle and look something like fifteen drinks as I held my stomach from laughing so hard at her dramatics. I tried to subtly take the bottle but the others pointed at me accusingly, gasping in shock. “So this wasn’t all with Viktor Krum?!” Ginny asked excitedly, bouncing up and down with intrigue.

“Obviously not,” I pronounced crisply, “Now no more questions! You lot **know** it’s not allowed! My turn… Hmm… Ok, ok I’ve got it! Never have I ever failed an exam!” The other two let out loud BOO’s, making dramatic thumbs-down gestures at me. I rolled my eyes dismissively as they both took multiple enormous swallows of mead.

Ginny was clearly quite tipsy by this point, and was rocking side-to-side in her excitement. “NEVER HAVE I EVER HAD SEX!!!” she screamed, as we laughingly shushed her. When I made no move, Ginny nodded in apparent relief, “Ok, so we know the world hasn’t gone completely off its axis. Granger still has a tiny bit of innocence left!” I rolled my eyes and prudently refrained from commenting.

Ron seemed to be in a better mood than he had been on his last turn and smirked as he said, “Never have I ever snogged The Chosen One.” Ginny glared at him as she swallowed the dregs of the bottle.

“Well, that’s enough of that, children,” Ginny declared, pulling herself unsteadily to her feet. “Now if you two don’t mind, you’ve got me missing Harry terribly, so I’m gonna go scribble a dirty letter to him. I’m sure he’ll find it hilarious. Later, bitches.”

I watched with my wand ready to catch Ginny as she drunkenly clambered down the ladder. When she had made it safely to the ground, I turned around and was startled to find that Ron had crawled across the dusty floor and was now crouching mere inches away from me. “Hey, ‘Mione,” he whispered, his voice gruff. “Umm… hey, Ron,” I replied uncertainly.

“I sure did learn a lot of stuff about you this afternoon,” Ron mumbled, dense as always.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I sighed, looking longingly over my shoulder at the attic trapdoor.

“So, do you, like, have a boyfriend or something?”

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend, Ronald,” I muttered uncomfortably.

“Nice, nice…” he whispered quietly, apparently to himself. I looked over my shoulder again, trying to figure out how to extract myself from the awkward situation gracefully. When I looked back around, Ron’s face was mere inches from mine. I could smell alcohol on his breath as well as a good deal of garlic leftover from the sausages at breakfast. My stomach turned over nauseatingly.

All of a sudden, his eyes were closing, his chapped lips were puckering, and he was leaning forward into me.

I placed a single hand on his face, pushing him abruptly, but gently, away. He fell sideways, balance thrown off in his tispy state, and I heard a resounding “THUNK!” as his skull smacked against the attic floor.  I leapt to my feet, threw open the trapdoor, cried out, “Sorry, Ronald!”, and positively flew down the ladder.

I burst into Ginny’s room, and she looked up from her sheaf of parchment curiously as I began to dig a bookbag out from under my bed. “What the bloody hell is going on?” Ginny cried out as I starting shoving clothing into the bag at random. “That’s mine!” she laughed, getting to her feet and pulling a yellow sundress out of the backpack.

“Ron made a move on me!” I groaned, dragging my fingernails across my cheeks in mortification. “I’m too wasted to deal with the awkwardness! I need to get out of here!”

Ginny was cracking up, “I thought you were into it! That’s why I left you two alone!”

I looked at her scandalized, betrayal written across my face, “EWWW!!! WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT?!?!”

“I’m so, so sorry, Hermione! You’re such an impossible person to read! I feel so awful now!” she said, mortified with herself. “But more importantly, where the hell do you think you’re gonna go?!”

“I just have to find him. It’ll be fine.”

“Find who? Hermione, it’s NOT SAFE out there! You-Know-Who’s people are everywhere! It’s not like you can just get a room at the Leaky Cauldron!”

“I’ll be safe. I’m safer with him than anywhere else in the world. Don’t worry,” I said, more to myself than in response to Ginny.

As I threw my backpack over my shoulder and made for the bedroom door, Ginny grabbed my arm desperately, “Hermione, listen to me. This. is. a. bad. idea. If you weren’t drunk right now, you’d see how crazy you’re acting!”

I shook off her hand, trying to smile at her reassuringly, “I know it seems like I’m being really impulsive, but I’ve been going insane here. And now with Ron… Ugh, I just can’t deal with it anymore. Please say you understand.”

She finally nodded reluctantly, “It’s not like I can’t tell you hate it here. I just wish you would tell me where you’re going.”

I grimaced at her sadly, giving her a tight squeeze, “I love you, Ginny, but I can’t tell you anything. I’m really sorry. I wish I could. I really do.” I slipped out of the bedroom then, carefully sneaking down the stairs and out the front door into the pouring rain. I went into the village to make sure I wouldn’t be missing a letter, and when I found the box empty, I disapparated in the woods behind the Post Office.


	5. Lullaby (Severus)

_Oh, bloody_ **_fucking_ ** _hell. If that rodent has raided my wine cellar again, I’m going to chop that goddamn silver hand of his right the_ **_fuck_ ** _off!_

I was in my office well after 1 AM, working on my ninth straight hour of paperwork, when I felt a telltale tug in my navel. My home wards had been passed by someone bearing a Dark Mark. I grumbled to myself as I stomped furiously across the school grounds. Until the exact second I turned on the spot and disapparated, it had never even occurred to me to worry.

I jogged through the open iron gate and took the front steps two at a time. As I silently entered the front door of the cottage, I drew my wand. The living room was empty, and the kitchen light was off. I opened the bookcase door, and crept up the creaky old stairs as quietly as I could manage. I saw a sudden bright flash of red light under the closed door of my bedroom. I sprinted the final few steps and slammed my shoulder into the door unthinkingly. One of the ancient hinges broke, and the cheap, hollow door burst inward.

I took in the scene in an instant: Wormtail’s lumpen, twitching form on the ground and Hermione on the bed, bound in ropes and gagged, shirt ripped open. I let out an otherworldly roar, leveling my wand at the wizard who was now beginning to drag himself into a sitting position.

“CRUCIO!!!!” I bellowed, and my wand hand was surprisingly steady as I bore down on Wormtail. I released every last ounce of hate, frustration, and misery from the past month into that nightmarish curse.

The wizard thrashed and foamed at the mouth...

His eyes had rolled into the back of his skull...

I could smell his bowels evacuating....

Still I pressed harder.

The universe had never been so beautiful. My mind was a perfect blank, a white room suffused with light...

I’d never felt such an exquisite peace before in all my life.

Suddenly, he vomited neon yellow bile all over my best suede boots, startling me back into cognizance. I pulled my wand back, releasing him from the curse. I stepped on his doughy face in my haste to reach Hermione. I vanished the bindings with a wave of the hand, and I immediately swept her up into my arms. I cradled her like a child as she quietly wept and repeated my name over and over again. I kept an eye on Wormtail’s prone form as I kissed her forehead and cheeks, whispering, “Hush. Hush. It’s ok. I’m here now. It’s over. You’re safe. Just tell me what happened. Did he bring you here?”

Finally she took in a great, shuddering breath and choked out, “No. I ran away from the Burrow. When I couldn’t get through the Hogwarts gates after a few hours, I came here. I was asleep in your bed when he came in. The Death Eaters must be watching your house, Severus!”

“Of course they are! They don’t trust me as far as they can throw me! He must have thought raping you would be a really **hilarious** prank to play on me,” I spat venomously, stepping on the wizard’s face once again and grinding my heel into his pointy little nose. “Thank the gods you were able to summon a wandless, non-verbal stunner. Is that the first time you’ve managed it?” She nodded numbly, burying her face in my chest.

I placed a lingering kiss on the top of her head and whispered into her tangled hair, “That’s my brilliant girl.” I lowered her gently to the bed then drew my wand. As I turned and leveled it at the pathetic excuse for a man on the floor, I murmured, “Time to take care of this once and for all. **Avad** -” “NO!!” Hermione screeched, lurching forward and yanking my wand arm down.

“What the fuck, Hermione?!” I shouted, turning on her with eyes bulging murderously. “You don’t just grab a man’s arm when he’s casting an Unforgivable! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!!”

“You can’t kill him, Severus!” she cried out.

“Why the hell not?! He deserves to die! You don’t know even half of the psychotic bullshit this fucking animal has done!!”

“It’s not for him, Severus, don’t you see that? It’s for you! YOUR fucking soul, remember?!”

I shook my head, but lowered the wand to my side nonetheless. Hermione grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me onto the bed in front of her. She took my wand hand in her own, leveling it at Wormtail. She entwined her fingers with mine and whispered, “ _Enervate_.” I felt her insistent but gentle magic flowing through my arm. My wand, miraculously, complied with her command.

The revolting creature on the floor stirred, and after a few seconds he looked up at us with horror-struck eyes. Hermione had hidden her exposed chest behind my back and was staring at him over my shoulder when she spoke with impressive composure, “I have spared your life today, Peter, though you do not deserve it. You owe me now- do you understand that?” He nodded, terrified into silence, and his eyes were focused intently on our interlocked fingers holding my wand inches from his nose. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind and let him kill you.” He nodded again, beady eyes wide and panicked. He scrambled out of the room on his hands and knees, and I could hear him trip and fall as he tried to gallop down the stairs. I didn’t breathe again until I heard the cast-iron gate slam shut in the front garden.

Hermione let out a final choked sob and wiped her nose unceremoniously on the back of my nice aubergine button-down. I noticed her schoolbag on the floor and pulled it towards me. I rifled through the tangle of clothes until I found a nightgown that seemed decently clean. I turned around to face her as best I could manage on the narrow twin bed. I kissed her gently on the forehead and helped her out of her ripped t-shirt, bra, cargo shorts, and underwear, all of which I vanished immediately. _No need to keep those reminders around._

I pulled the soft cotton garment over her head and asked, “Where’d your wand go?” She shrugged and replied, “I dunno. He wrestled it out of my hands and threw it across the room.” After a few seconds of searching I found that the slim piece of vinewood had fallen behind the upright piano. A quick summoning spell and it was back where it belonged, gripped tightly in Hermione’s right hand.

I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and selected a small jar of a particularly enlightening Sativa strain and a book of strawberry-flavored rolling papers. The ganja was quite old and dry, so it crumbled easily as I broke it up onto the sheet of parchment I’d placed on the bed between our crossed legs. I gave her a primer course on rolling a joint, showing her how to fold a piece of cardstock into a filter, how to twist the flat rolling paper into an envelope that neatly holds your broken up bud... She was intent on the task, and she giggled adorably when she accidently dropped her joint, scattering tiny bits of weed all over the bedspread.

I knew that learning something new would be a perfect distraction for Hermione, and when she finally managed to seal her first, rather sloppy joint, she held it up triumphantly. “Can I try another one?!” she asked immediately, eliciting a quiet chuckle from me. Her fourth attempt was fairly tight and well-formed, so I deemed it smoke-worthy.

I leaned against the headboard and spread my knees; Hermione nestled herself between them and rested her back against my chest. I buried my face in her rat’s nest of hair and greedily inhaled the exquisite rosemary-mint scent of her shampoo.

“Are you smelling me?!” she laughed. I ignored her teasing and lit the joint with my wandtip. I tucked the wand up my sleeve and wrapped that arm tightly around her stomach as I took another enormous hit from the spliff. She took two small hits and passed it back over her shoulder. We smoked in companionable silence, Hermione wrapped tightly in my arms as her death grip on her wand gradually loosened.

Fifteen minutes after we finished smoking, her breathing finally slowed and evened out. Her hand went limp, and her wand dropped to the bedspread beside my knee. I placed it reverentially on the bedside table, close-at-hand for her. I scooted down the bed a bit and gently rearranged Hermione into a more comfortable position atop me. I pulled the covers over us, and she made a sleepy noise of contentment. I laid awake that entire night, burning with rage, listening to her steady breathing, silently and vehemently vowing to never fail her like this again.


	6. Human Qualities (Hermione)

I awoke engulfed by an intense and immediate wave of shame.  _ Uggghhh, I am so bloody stupid! What kind of flipping idiot just runs away like that?! Severus must be so mad at me! I broke into his house, nearly got myself killed, and forced him to run down here and save my stupid arse! Gods, he must think I’m the most idiotic, irresponsible, childish girl who’s ever lived!!! _

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” a gruff, exhausted voice rumbled from the broad chest beneath my cheek. I opened my eyes and raised my head, craning my neck to look up at Severus. I blushed when I locked eyes with him, immediately overwhelmed with guilt. He looked awful in the harsh early morning sunshine- at least fifteen years older. Every line in his face seemed to have deepened in the last month, and the bags under his eyes were so dark they looked drawn on with charcoal. 

I rolled over to get a better look at him. I reached for his face, cupping his whiskery cheek in my small hand. My heart felt as if it would burst with empathy.  _ Gods, being Headmaster must be so hard on him. He looks like he didn’t sleep last night... or the three nights before that! I’m so despicable for dragging him down here. He must hate me! _

“Good morning, Master Snape,” I said, smiling in a vain attempt to hide the pervasive guilt in my voice.

“How are you doing?” he asked, concern plainly etched into his exhausted features.

“I’m fine. Honestly,” I asserted. “It’s you we should be worrying about. You’re a dead man walking, Severus. And you know that lack of sleep impedes your mental faculties. Depriving yourself of rest in order to get work done is counterproductive.” I cringed at myself,  _ always the bossy know-it-all. You try to show concern for someone and you just end up sounding like a bitch. _

But he just chuckled quietly, leaning forward to kiss me on the tip of the nose. “That’s my girl.”

I giggled, rubbing away the tickle his innocent peck had caused. “You know we’re not at Hogwarts anymore… You don’t have to only kiss me on the forehead and nose...” I whispered, blushing slightly.

“Oh,  **trust me,** I’m aware,” he grunted, glancing pointedly at how far my nightgown had ridden up my thigh. I felt a sudden lightning bolt of excitement in my stomach at the hungry expression on his face. “I have been  **very** aware of that fact for the past six hours… I was trying to be respectful of your bodily autonomy after what happened last night,” he finished.  _ He’s always so darned noble,  _ I lamented to myself. 

I grabbed the back of his head and crushed my lips suddenly and rather aggressively against his own. He gave a surprised jump, then grinned against my mouth mischievously. He rolled on top of me, and I spread my legs by instinct. He lowered himself between my thighs, and I could feel his enormous erection pressing against me through his light summer trousers.

He lowered his mouth to my own, kissing me with gentle languor. His soft lips contrasted delightfully with the scratchiness of his stubble against my cheek… 

Then I realized that my nightgown had fallen up around my waist, and I wasn’t wearing any knickers. I began to blush, but tried desperately to ignore my childish embarrassment. 

He seemed to be unconsciously humping me, and his cock dug painfully into my pubic bone, but I didn’t mind in the slightest.  _ Oh my gods, he got huge so fast!!! Was he just lying here all night with a hard-on, or did he really get that turned on from kissing me for thirty seconds?! _

Suddenly, his hands were tightly gripping my thighs and his lips were leaving my own. He was placing painfully slow, deliberate kisses across my knees, then my thighs, and then he was placing a single, exceedingly gentle kiss on my small patch of pubic hair. I felt my entire body heat with simultaneous arousal and embarrassment. I could see that my chest was flushed bright pink when I looked down at him. 

Then he made the most handsomely devilish smirk, and his eyes were so dark with desire, that I just whispered, “Please, Master Snape.”

He gave me a feral grin, abruptly yanking my nightgown up, exposing my breasts to the chilly air. He let out a low growl of desire as he lowered his lips to my tingling, puckered nipples. He briefly and gently tongued each little nub, making me whimper in frustration.

He chuckled quietly, taking my right nipple between his lips. He suckled gently… then all of a sudden bit down- sending a spike of pain through my entire torso. I squealed, arching my back into his face. He smirked down at me evilly as he moved his attentions to my other breast. He assaulted this one as well, alternately caressing and abusing it until I finally let out an inarticulate screech of annoyance.

Laughing huskily, he quickly and gracefully lowered himself to nestle his head between my thighs. There was no further torture. He immediately, and without ceremony, plunged his tongue inside me. I let out a sudden yelp of surprise and pleasure. I had no idea what he was doing down there, but whatever it was... was complete insanity. His tongue moved impossibly fast, and at some point his long finger had appeared inside of me, and then another, and then another.

My head was a fog of ecstasy, and the pressure built and built in my abdomen until I couldn’t stand it any longer. Not knowing what I was doing, I pushed  **down** with what felt like every single muscle in my lower body. A sudden rushing noise in my ears, an explosion of pleasure so intense it was almost painful, a gushing sensation between my legs, and I suddenly, inexplicably, was far wetter than I had been moments before.

I opened my eyes, looking down at Severus with shock and concern. But he just stared up at me with something like pride in his glimmering coal-black eyes. After a few seconds I realized what had happened, blushing with mortification. 

“That’s my good girl,” Severus whispered, pulling himself up my body to look directly into my eyes. I just continued blushing, quite unable to speak. He kissed me passionately, and I could taste the saltiness of my cum all over his face. 

He nuzzled my ear, whispering huskily, “Such a good girl... coming for her Professor. I knew you had it in you. You just had to work hard and apply yourself.”

I giggled at his teasing, but I found myself getting humiliatingly aroused by his words. He lowered his lips to my shoulder, nibbling and sucking his way along my collarbone. 

He continued purring in that impossibly sexy basso profundo, “That’s my perfect little student... Always doing as she’s told...  **_Good_ ** _...  _ **_little_ ** _...  _ **_girl_ ** _... _ ” I let out an involuntary whimper, and he slid his hand obligingly between our bodies. 

He firmly pressed the pad of his middle finger to my clitoris, and I let out a deep groan. He chuckled quietly and commenced torturing me with slow, measured strokes. After a few seconds I pushed my hips forward, pressing needfully against his hand, and whimpered, “Please, Master Snape…”

He kissed me then- violently, hungrily, biting and pulling at my lips like an animal. I moaned into his mouth, frantic, and he picked up his pace, using three deft fingertips to stimulate my clitoris as he mercilessly invaded my mouth. I came again within minutes, screaming against his lips as my second orgasm took me to the very edge of consciousness.

I collapsed beneath him, gasping desperately for oxygen. It appeared that I hadn’t taken a breath for an exceedingly long time. He peppered my face and chest with kisses, then whispered my name like a question. With some effort I dragged open my heavy eyelids to look up at him. “I love you,” he said, intently and somewhat searchingly. 

I smiled at him, trying to lighten his sudden inexplicable gloom. “I love you,” I replied, trying to put as much sincerity and meaning behind the three simple words as I could. I reached up, cupping his cheeks in my hands. I looked deeply into his opaque ebony eyes and repeated, emphatically, “I. Love. You.” I could swear I saw tears starting to glimmer at the corners of his eyes when he suddenly disappeared, kissing my sternum briefly, then resting his head gently on my belly. 

After a few moments he let out a great sigh and spoke, his voice muffled somewhat by my stomach, “I have to leave. I have to go to work. Arrrggghhh… Why do I have to go back to work? Why can’t we just run away together? Just abandon our responsibilities and get as far away from this cursed place as we can?”

I felt a few hot tears trickling down my waist. “I hate being Headmaster. It’s nothing but paperwork- all day, every day. I spend half of my goddamn life just answering bloody correspondence! And then my hand’s cramping too much from writing fucking letters all day to be able to write to you! It’s a bloody nightmare, Hermione!” he confessed, steadfastly refusing to look up at me.

After a few thoughtful seconds I replied, “I’d like nothing more than to run away with you, Severus. Just leave this all behind. I know that with our brains, we could survive and even  **thrive** pretty much anywhere in the world. But, like you always say, we have responsibilities here. People are under our care. They need us. They need YOU, Master Snape. You’re the only one who can keep the professors and students safe. Only YOU can walk that impossibly thin line so carefully, protecting everyone while still keeping You-Know-Who happy.”

He looked up at me then, exhaustion and profound sadness written plain across his face. “I know you’re tired. You’ve already done so much for everyone, and they don’t even know about it. But I promise you: the world will know about you, Severus Snape. I’ll make sure of it. You are a HERO. You are the true power behind the Order, and one day everyone in the wizarding world will know your name.” My pep talk seemed to have done its job. He didn’t look any less exhausted, but the mournful furrow of his brow had softened somewhat. 

“Now, do you actually have anything important due today?” He shook his head against my ribcage, tickling me with his whiskers. The sensation gave me a little shiver, and goosebumps spread down my stomach and thighs.

“Good. Then you’re going to take a sick day today. You’re going to sleep. I’m going to force some food down your throat. And then you’re going to sleep some more,” I proclaimed, giving him my best bossy glare- daring him to protest. He sat back and shrugged then, apparently lacking the energy to argue.

I sat up as well, modestly and surreptitiously yanking my nightgown down to  **finally** cover myself. I helped him remove his shirt and trousers, and I could see his cock was bulging insistently in his fitted black underwear. We laid down side by side, and after a few seconds he grabbed me by the hip. He pulled me over on top of him, and now his erection was pressing distractingly against my stomach. 

Building up my nerve after a few minutes, I asked, “Don’t you think we should take care of… you know...” and wiggled my hips a bit against him.

He let out a low groan of frustration, “No. We shouldn’t. I can barely control myself around you when I’m fully clothed. I would lose all semblance of sanity if you were touching me.”

Blushing with pride, I said, “I don’t think that would be a bad thing…”

He just sighed darkly and spoke no more.


	7. Exit Music for a Film (Severus)

“I **actually** have to go now. Seriously, Hermione. I have an interview this morning and I absolutely cannot miss it,” I groaned as I fought to extract myself from her clutches. I finally managed to drag myself out of the bed after much cajoling.

But it was all I could do not to climb right back in when I turned around after fastening my robes and saw her stretching languidly, long legs bare, hair tousled, lips swollen from two days of snogging. “And you need to go back to the Burrow. I know it’s boring there, but it’s the safest place you can be right now.”

She sat up then with a wild look in her eye and reached across the tiny room to grab my lower arm. Her nails dug painfully into my Dark Mark as she pleaded, “Don’t make me go back there. _Please!_  It’s so weird. I can’t handle it! I just can’t!”

I sighed, scratching irritably at my three-day beard, “I know Weasley is mooning over you. Rest assured that I am EXTREMELY dis…”

But she interrupted me before I could finish, voice high-pitched with scarcely concealed panic, “NO! You don’t understand! It’s gotten worse, ok? It’s too weir…”

My pulse quickened. “ **How** did it get worse?” I hissed menacingly, towering over her.

She looked terrified now, and her bottom lip quivered distractingly. She shook her head frantically, avoiding eye contact. I grabbed her jaw none-too-gently, forcing her to look into my eyes. I bent over her- my nose was a scant inch away from hers. I asked again, venom lacing my honeyed tones, “ ** _How did it get it get worse?_** ”

Tears poured from her eyes then as she whispered, so quietly I could hardly make out her words, “He tried to kiss me…”

I took a shuddering breath and hissed, “He did WHAT?”

“He tried to kiss me! We were all playing a drinking game... but then Ginny left and it was just us two left alone in the attic... and he tried to kiss me! I wasn’t flirting with him, I swear! I don’t know where he got the idea that I was interested…” she rambled.

“Yes, Miss Granger, what ever could have given him the idea that you would be receptive to such a thing?” I purred with affected calm.

“I don’t know! Maybe ‘cause we were talking about sexual things we’d done before? I don’t know!”

“You were talking about me?!” I roared suddenly, startling a terrified squeak out of her.

“NO! NO! Not you **exactly**. Just stuff we’d done. It’s a game! Just a stupid game!”

I turned my back on her, desperately trying to school my expression into one of sanity rather than that of the snarling monster that fought to possess me. A minute of silence passed, then another. I simply stared at the ancient carpeting, counting my breaths, shaking hands concealed inside the voluminous sleeves of my robes.

Eventually, she broke the poisonous silence, “Please, Severus. It didn’t mean anything. I pushed him away before he got anywhere close to me. I was so **disgusted** that I ran away here! Do you understand that?! I didn’t **want** any of this to happen! Please don’t blame me for what he did!”

I spun around then, unable to conceal the betrayal in my eyes. “You think I’m angry at you because he tried to kiss you?! You really think so LITTLE of me?! I know you can’t control HIS actions! I know you weren’t ASKING FOR IT just because you’d had a little bit to drink!” I screamed, quite deranged.

I continued, gesticulating wildly, “I’m fucking pissed off at you because you went and blabbed to your little friends about our private life!! What if one of them figured out who you were talking about?! You don’t think Weasley would jump at the chance to get me sacked?! That kind of scandal would ruin my career prospects for the **rest of my life**! Have you realized Hogwarts is the only job I’ve ever had?! Of course you haven’t! Because you only think of yourself!!!”

Hermione’s hands were clasped over her mouth, expression of abject horror on her face. “Oh gods! I’m so sorry, Master Snape. You’re completely right. I **was** only thinking about myself! I get so sick of being mocked for being such a good girl all the time! I just wanted to prove that I’m not the person everyone thinks I am... It was stupid. I was **so** **stupid**! Is there any way you could ever forgive me?!”

She was weeping in earnest now; her expression as miserable as I had ever seen it. As she looked up at me, blood-shot chestnut eyes glimmering with tears, my heart broke. I reached for her, lifting her up into my arms, and she wrapped her legs around my hips. “It’s ok, Hermione,” I mumbled into her tangle of hair. “I forgive you. It’s ok.” I held her as long as my arms could stand it before gently setting her back down on the bed.

“If I’m going to be honest, I don’t really want you going back to the Burrow now,” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair absently. “I know it’s childish, and it’s not like I don’t trust you…”

But she interjected, “Stop, Severus. You don’t have to justify yourself to me. If the situation were reversed, I’d feel the exact same way.”

A little glimmer of pride flared in my chest at her words. “Really?” I asked, smirking haughtily to hide my grasping neediness, “You’d be jealous of me?”

She nodded, freckled cheeks and ears a rosy pink, “Of course I would. I would go completely **mental** if someone tried to kiss you!”

I looked away to hide my sudden mutinous smile and grumbled, “Well, fortunately for you, no one in their right mind would ever dream of trying to snog this ugly old bat. So it’s settled then... You will stay at Grimmauld Place with Dumbledore’s body.” Her expression was one of abject horror as I kissed her goodbye.

 

I made it to Hogwarts with only minutes to spare, but the little shithead was late as per usual. I was tapping my toe irritably when he finally apparated at a quarter past. I scowled at him wordlessly and swept through the gates, which opened at my approach. Draco barely scampered inside as they slammed shut behind me. I strode all the way up to Dumble-no, MY office at a rapid clip, and I was perversely pleased to see Draco’s forehead was glistening with perspiration when he gratefully flopped into the hard wooden chair in front of my desk.

I lowered myself into my own throne-like seat, glowering across the enormous expanse of polished oak and haphazard piles of parchment at the boy. He fidgeted with his clothing irritably, but he was lacking his signature smirk. I simply watched him impassively, waiting for him to speak first. After a few uncomfortable minutes of silence, he finally looked up at me and asked sulkily, “So, are you gonna let me back in, or what?”

I sneered at him imperiously, “What makes you think I would even consider such a thing, Mister Malfoy? Why would I expose the students of this school to an attempted murderer who bears a Dark Mark?”

His eyes flashed. “What a load of horseshit! You expose them to YOURSELF, Snape! You’re much more than an **attempted** murderer,” he spat.

I smirked at his sudden explosion, “There, there, Mister Malfoy. It’s temper tantrums like that which make me question if you’re suitable for this sort of learning environment.”

With a herculean effort, he responded quietly, “Please, Professor. I HAVE to get back into school. I can’t…” He choked up then, and a single tear rolled down his pale cheek as he pleaded, “If I’m not at Hogwarts… You-Know-Who… I’ll have to work for him…” His voice broke then, and he buried his fists in his eyes like a child, desperately choking back a sob.

My heart softened at the boy’s uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. I spoke quietly, “Draco, look at me.” He gave an enormous sniff and wiped his face with the front of his robes, ice-blue met black, and I _dove_ …

The fabric of Draco’s mind was like satin- delicate, silky smooth, easily ruffled. I took in the state of his being, marveling at the intricacies of the young man’s emotions. He was feeling virtually every emotion simultaneously, surprising me with the depth of what he was experiencing. I had expected him to be stormy grey- full of rage at me (which he certainly was), but his mind was also chock full of regretful, miserable blues. What shocked me was the great deal of pink strands, woven into nearly every aspect of his life. What truly stumped me was how closely tied the pink strands were with the many, many carbon-black tones of deception and guilt.

I picked a thick braid of magenta and ebony at random and _tugged_....

 

> **My heart is pounding in my throat. I feel as if I could vomit any second. I circle higher and higher on my broom until the telltale heat-wave-like visual distortions of the defensive wards are gone. I rise a few more meters just to be safe, then rocket forward. The Hogwarts gate passes a few hundred meters below me, and I let out the breath I’d been holding.** **_Phew. Made it again._ **
> 
> **I dive to the ground at a breakneck pace, pulling up at the last possible second and sliding off my broom with a triumphant flourish. I’m drunk on the excitement of another successful escape, and I can’t help but twirl my robes dramatically as I disapparate.**
> 
> **I pop back into existence in a darkened bedroom papered with Manchester United and pop music posters. A blonde-haired boy rolls over in his double bed, grabbing a pair of glasses from his bedside table. He grins at me, and pulls back the sheets of his bed invitingly. I slide in next to him and he snakes his arm around my waist…**

I backed out of his mind then, trying to spare the small bit of privacy the boy had left. Draco was apoplectic with rage. He spluttered at me wordlessly, furious tears running down his cheeks. I rose from my chair, unsure what I was doing.

I walked around the desk and then, much to my surprise, bent over and embraced him on instinct. He let out a great wail then, burying his face in my chest. I knelt down in front of his chair, letting the miserable boy weep into my shoulder as I rubbed his back bracingly. After a few minutes he quieted enough for me to speak.

“Your secret is safe with me, Draco,” I soothed him. “I won’t tell your parents. I know how homophobic pure-blood society is. It’s all about furthering the family line... producing more pure-blooded wizards... individual happiness be damned. You can come back to school. You don’t have to go to work for the Dark Lord.”

He beamed at me then- the first sincere smile I’d seen on the young man’s face since he was a small child. “Thank you, Severus, thank you! I know I fucked up last year, taking the Dark Mark. I just thought its magic would like... fix me or something. I don’t know. But then I met Erik during Christmas holiday last year… And I didn’t want to change anymore. He taught me that it’s ok to be who I am. That there’s nothing wrong with me…” he sniffled, wiping his nose absently on the sleeve of his robes. “We want to run away together… But he’s only 17 and muggles don’t come of age until 18… I just need to survive a year, Severus. That’s it. If I can just stay safe from You-Know-Who for a year…”

I stood up then, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly, “You’re going to survive far more than a year, Draco Malfoy. You’re going to escape all this. And you’re going to be with the boy you love.”


	8. Two of Us On the Run (Hermione)

I managed to make it nearly 24 hours before my curiosity got the better of me. The door of Sirius’s bedroom creaked ominously as I pushed it open. The aged wizard was laid out reverentially atop the faded bedspread. Dust motes glimmered in the morning sunbeams peeking through the heavy shades. His long hair and beard had been combed and arranged around his deeply lined face. The right sleeve of his heavily-adorned robes had been rolled up to his shoulder, and I could see that the site of amputation had been carefully treated over the course of the past month and a half. It had healed over nicely, and I guessed that grafts had been applied at some point. 

_ Holy crap, Severus is incredible. He’s able to perform a successful skin graft just from reading about it in textbooks?! I don’t know why he’s always saying I’m brilliant, and calling me a genius. He blows me out of the water ANY day! _

I crept closer, and upon further inspection realized that Dumbledore had lost a significant amount of weight. The Draught of Living Death slowed a person’s metabolism to practically nothing, but it seemed that the strain of healing such a traumatic injury had been sapping the man’s limited energy reserves. I pondered this problem as I straightened the bedcovers. 

_ A muggle doctor would put in a feeding tube to provide him with nourishment. But we have no way of getting ahold of the equipment. What are we gonna do? Rob a hospital? Hardly. _

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden clatter of scratching and tapping at the second-story window. I had to give the painted-over opening a few enormous shoves and a gentle Confringo Curse before it finally swung outward. 

I took Ginny’s reply from Pigwidgeon with some difficulty, as he was hopping up and down excitedly, clearly quite pleased with himself. I scratched the little owl under his chin as he positively quivered with pride. “Thanks, Pig,” I murmured affectionately as I gave him a helpful toss back out into the open air. He flapped off in a silly loop-de-loop, celebrating his accomplishment. I cracked open the simple wax seal and grinned as I read,

 

> Hermione,
> 
> Let me just start off by saying how incredibly fucking pissed I am at you, you vacuous slut! How dare you leave me all alone here with Ron’s mopey ass?! He’s done  nothing but pout and snap at everyone for three days straight! 
> 
> The precious little prince has never had his pride bruised  SO badly before. Fred and George tortured the reason you left the Burrow out of me, and you should’ve seen the gleeful looks on their faces! They haven’t let him live it down for even a second! Mocking him endlessly for thinking a brilliant witch like you would ever want a dumb git like him! I feel really bad for Ron... but Fred and George’s dramatic recreations of him slobbering over you are the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen! Their impressions of your voices are spot-on!
> 
> I had to tell Mum why you left, so that she wouldn’t immediately run off to Grimmauld Place and drag you back in a full-body bind. She’s soooo mad at Ron for making you feel uncomfortable in her house! She puts the tiniest little servings of food on his plate at meals, and she’s made him wash every single dish by hand!
> 
> Crookshanks is doing fine. He spent the first night you were gone wandering all over the house and yowling nonstop. But now he’s taken to following Mum around the house and yard all day. And he spends the nights hogging my pillow, so he’s definitely adjusted just fine! I’ll be sure to tell him you send your love. I swear that cat understands English better than half the first-years at Hogwarts!
> 
> But enough about that bullshit...  WHO THE HELL were you talking about as you were lurching around my room like a crazy drunk?! We DO NOT keep secrets from each other, Hermione Jean Granger! Who’s the one you shook awake in the middle of the night to critique Viktor Krum’s snogging?! Hmm?? And now you’ve been doing Merlin-knows-what with this new guy and you haven’t even MENTIONED HIS EXISTENCE to me?! I can only assume you have a damn good reason for hiding such juicy gossip from me, otherwise this betrayal is fucking unforgivable.
> 
> Write soon! I’m bloody miserable here without you.
> 
> XO,
> 
> Ginny

 

I spent the next few days digging through the Black family’s sizable library, searching for anything that could help Dumbledore’s situation. My attempts were largely fruitless, however. Wizard healers rarely left anyone in a coma for more than a day or two, as they possessed many spells powerful enough to bring people back from even the darkest depths of the unconscious.  _ Foiled again by the limits of magical healing. _

By my fourth day trapped with Dumbledore and Kreacher, I was beginning to go slightly mad. Without Severus’s intimidating presence keeping him at bay, Kreacher would track me from room to room. He’d stand outside closed doors and right around corners, muttering about mudbloods and interlopers. If I started cooking a meal and left the kitchen for even a moment, I’d return to find all of my food had vanished. When I confronted Kreacher about it, he would claim that he was “just cleaning up”. I spent the nights in Severus’s tiny converted study off the library, locking and heavily warding the two doors behind me. I slept fitfully, constantly waking with my heart pounding, convinced that Kreacher was watching me as I slept.

When I heard the front door slam on the floor above, my heart leapt into my throat. I scrambled to my feet and practically flew up the staircase. Severus had only just made it down the entry hall when I barreled into him. He took a large step back, barely catching himself from being knocked over, as I jumped into his arms. He held me tightly to his chest as I gushed, “Oh my gods, I’m so glad you’re here! I’m going totally insane! I missed you so much!”

After a minute he released me, then held me at arm’s length and looked me up and down. I blushed when I realized that I was wearing the same rumpled pair of pajamas that I’d been wearing for the past two days straight, and my hair was unwashed and stuffed into a hasty, rather messy bun. 

He, on the other hand, looked much better than the last time I’d seen him. The hollows in his cheeks had filled out somewhat, and the exhausted bags under his eyes were downgraded from alarming to merely concerning. His hair was incredibly shiny, and he pushed it absently behind his left ear as I stared up at him. He asked if I’d eaten dinner yet, and when I shook my head he took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen.

I watched with rapt attention as he assembled a quick Fettuccine Alfredo out of the sparse ingredients I’d brought home from the corner market. I couldn’t take my eyes off those long-fingered, impossibly graceful hands. He moved with such deft precision when he worked, never fumbling his knife, never dropping anything. I imagined he could cook a four-course meal with his eyes closed. As he prepared our dinner, he swore me to absolute secrecy before filling me in on his meeting with Malfoy.

My heart was bursting with compassion by the time he finished the story, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you telling me this? Isn’t it an invasion of his privacy?”

He turned around then and looked right into me with those piercing black eyes, “I’m not sure why I’m telling you. I just know I don’t want to keep any secrets from you. And if it means that you’ll have more patience with Draco, and maybe encourage your friends to lay off him… I don’t know. Maybe it will help make his life a little less miserable. And the first thing I did after he left my office was close that damned loophole in the gate wards. If it had been closed two years ago, you would have never made it to the Department of Mysteries and gotten that scar on your chest.” 

I nodded and said, “Well, I’m certainly not going to look at Draco the same way now. I could always tell that he was full of self-loathing and only knew how to deal with it by bullying others… but I never suspected how serious it was. You really think he’s gonna run away?”

Severus shrugged as he placed a shallow bowl heavily loaded with luscious pasta and roasted lemon-pepper broccoli in front of me. “Hard to say. The Malfoys have always defended the pure-blood rhetoric quite vehemently. But Lucius and Narcissa adore their only son. I think if the Dark Lord were out of the picture, they’d eventually come around and accept him for who he is. It’s hard to say though. He’s their only chance at passing on the family name, and I find it  **rather** unlikely that they’d accept their son being with a muggle.”

I shook my head mournfully, “You’re probably right. It is hard to imagine.” We passed a few minutes in silence as I enthusiastically shoveled pasta into my face. I had been subsisting largely on crisps and biscuits for the better part of a week, so eating a real meal was orgasmic. 

Then he spoke, and I instantly recognized his practiced, smoothly business-like Potions Master voice, “I didn’t only come here to feed and gossip with you, Miss Granger. As I’m sure you’ve observed by now, Professor Dumbledore is wasting away before our very eyes. I was hoping the Draught would buy us a bit more time, but alas, we must play the hand we’ve been dealt. I have brought the second dose of the Triad Potion and intend to administer it to him tomorrow morning. There is a high degree of uncertainty as to what his state of mind will look like upon reawakening. As you well know, there are many negative side effects associated with returning from the Living Death. I am going to require your assistance. He is fairly certain to react violently upon recognizing me, whereas you possess a neutral-to-positive association for him.” I just nodded silently as I suppressed a low-grade panic attack. 

He tilted his head slightly as he looked across the table at me, and I was sure that he was scrutinizing my readiness for such a task. “Do not fret, Miss Granger,” he said, curtly but not unkindly. “It is not the safest place to be in all of wizarding Britain, but we’re going to be dealing with a wandless, malnourished centenarian. I am more than confident in your ability to handle anything that could be thrown your way.” I forced myself to smile at his version of effusive praise, but my nausea and distinct sense of impending doom continued unabated.


	9. Fascination Street (Severus)

When we climbed into bed that night, exhaustion claimed us near to instantaneously. Hermione had mentioned that fear of Kreacher had kept her up at night, but apparently my presence was reassuring enough that she slept straight through. When my internal clock woke me at 8 AM the next morning, I was quite certain that she was in precisely the same position she’d been in when she fell asleep. My stretching woke her, and she smiled groggily as she rolled over to face me.

As usual, I found her most irresistible first thing in the morning. I surreptitiously shifted my erection in my underwear, willing it to abate so that I could pull her to me. She had fallen asleep with wet hair from her shower the night before, so her curls were even more unmanageable than usual. The strap of her white cotton nightgown was hanging off her shoulder distractingly, drawing my eyes inexorably to her creamy smooth decolletage, marred only by that razor-thin scar. I could just make out the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric, and I licked my lips unconsciously as I stared.

Hermione caught me ogling her and blushed intensely, making the entire visual that much more enticing. 

And then she scooted closer, laying her head next to mine on my pillow and looking at me searchingly. She stretched her leg out to slip between my own, but paused when her thigh brushed against my straining cock. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she couldn’t keep the mischievous grin off her face.

She pressed against me bodily, eliciting a groan of frustration from my throat. She entwined her legs with my own, pushing her hips against mine. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to meditate my filthy thoughts away…

But then she was reaching between our bodies, brushing her palm against the front of my sleep pants. “Don’t Hermione…” I moaned as every cell in my body screamed at me to  _ just take her already!!!  _

But she ignored my words, wrapping her impossibly small hand around me. She gave my cock an experimental squeeze, and it twitched slightly, startling a giggle from her. She continued to gently rub me through the two layers of material as I slowly lost my grip on sanity.

All of a sudden I snapped, and I simply couldn’t bear the torturous teasing any longer. I reached down, hastily yanking my pants and underwear across my thighs. I grabbed her roughly by the wrist and forced her to take my cock. She sat up then, eagerly taking me in both her hands. 

She stroked me rhythmically as I clutched the sheets on either side of my body. She stared at my face intently, obviously looking for feedback on how she was doing. 

I was forced to shut my eyes after a few brief seconds of bliss, as the visual stimulation was too much to handle. I didn’t want to be humiliated by coming within a minute of her touching me, but her small hands double-teaming my bulging prick was far too erotic to watch.

All too quickly, I felt my balls beginning to tighten. I thought frantically about Quidditch, fighting my body with the utterly insufficient power of my mind. 

I managed to gasp a warning, “I’m about to come!” But instead of backing off as I expected, she leaned forward… 

She wrapped her bright pink lips around the head of my cock, sucking ever-so-gently… 

I burst with an explosive violence I had rarely before experienced. I thrust my hips frantically into her mouth, tangling both hands into her hair to force her down, keep her from escaping. My hot spunk shot down her throat over and over again as she spluttered and retched. It felt like a full minute passed before my load was finally spent. When I released her, she sat back with a shell-shocked expression, coughing and making gagging sounds.

I gasped for breath as my extremities tingled and twitched. When I could finally speak I whispered, “Are you ok, Hermione?” I propped myself up on my elbows so that I could see her face. She nodded her head, hand over her mouth, obviously not quite prepared to talk. When she finally could manage it, she croaked, “Yeah. Yes. Totally fine. I just have a strong gag reflex apparently.”

My heart sank, and I shamefully pulled my pants up before wrapping her in a tight hug. “I’m so, so sorry, Hermione. This is why I didn’t want you to touch me. I can’t  **control** myself around you. I’m a fucking animal. I’m so sorry,” I lamented, full of self-loathing.

She gave a hoarse laugh, pushing me off of her playfully. “Stop it! Not this crap again! I’m mad at  **myself** ! I wish I hadn’t gagged and choked… I’m sure that’s not exactly hot...”

I couldn’t help but smirk at her innocence. “As a matter of fact, that’s more of a perk... for perverts like me anyway. You’ve clearly only been exposed to very vanilla pornography, Miss Granger.”

She smirked back at me and her voice cracked as she asked, “What else have I been missing out on?”

I let out a highly uncharacteristic belly laugh at that. “I wouldn’t dream of traumatizing your young mind with such rubbish! Just pray that I manage to keep hold of my restraint in the future.”

“I would never dream of doing such a thing.”

It took nearly an hour for us to build up enough mental fortitude to roll out of bed and get dressed for the day. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and our lips were inexorably drawn together like magnets. 

I stared openly as Hermione pulled her nightgown over her head. She turned away from me as she bent over to rifle through her bookbag for clean clothes. My cock ached at the sight of her luscious little asscheeks peeking out of the bottom of her pale blue panties. I longed to wrap my fingers around her hips, rip those taunting boyshorts down to her coltish knees, and take her mercilessly from behind. She would cry out from the sudden pain, but her screams of agony would quickly turn to screams of ecstasy. She’d shout my name over and over again, crying as I violated her, taking that sweet, innocent little girl like a filthy street whore…

“Severus? Are you ever going to get dressed, or what?” She was clad in a worn pink tank-top and buttoning her cruelly short cut-offs when I startled back into cognizance. I quickly pulled a dark green linen shirt across my shoulders as she giggled at me. She affected a scolding, professorial tone, “You really ought to focus, Master Snape. We have rather a lot of work to get done today, and we can’t have you gazing off into la-la-land constantly.”

My eyes narrowed and I sneered with exaggerated imperiousness, “I’m hardly gazing into  _ la-la-land _ , Miss Granger. Perhaps if you dressed like a  _ proper _ young lady I wouldn’t get so distracted.” 

She laughed and shoved me playfully, “Only a buttoned-up old codger like you would think the way  **_I_ ** dress is inappropriate. You should see the way my friends dress on summer holiday... midriff tops, booty shorts, tiny skater dresses you can’t even bend over in… I dress like a preschooler compared to them!” 

I paused for a long moment, looking her up and down, before I leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “Maybe you could borrow an outfit once in awhile…” She flushed a glorious shade of magenta and covered her face with her hands. She shook her head but her eyes shone as she peeked at me between her fingers, “Do you really think I could pull something like that off? I feel like I’d look silly. I’m not sexy enough to wear that stuff.”

I rolled my eyes and stared at her pointedly before responding, “Hermione. Don’t be ridiculous. I can hardly keep my hands off of you when your body is obscured in five square meters of woolen school robe…”

She stepped towards me, freckled cheeks pink with pleasure, “Really?” Her hands slipped inside the shirt I hadn’t gotten around to buttoning yet. She trailed her sharp nails down my ribcage, raising goosebumps on my arms. 

I focused on my deep breathing exercises, staring intently into her liquid eyes and whispering, “Of course. Every second with you is exquisite torture, Hermione. My every waking moment is spent restraining myself. From shoving my tongue down your throat. From vanishing every last scrap of clothing from your body with a simple wave of my hand. From bending you over the nearest surface and taking your virginity, heedless of your protests. From forcing you to your knees and violating your mouth as you fought and gagged.” Her brows were heavily creased now, but her eyes weren’t nearly as alarmed as I expected. 

“Of course I’m not going to do any of that to you. But the fact remains that these things circle endlessly through my mind, Miss Granger. You are  **more** than sexy enough…”

Her hands were now on my back, nails digging insistently into my shoulderblades. She licked her lips, and I couldn’t help but notice how delicious her little pink tongue looked. Her eyes were imploring, needful.

I shook my head roughly, grasping her forearms and forcing them to her sides, freeing myself from her torturous clutches. I grabbed her by the shoulders and firmly pushed her a couple steps backward. I strode out of the room as I fastened my shirt with unsteady hands, calling briskly over my shoulder, “Breakfast in fifteen.”


	10. Gone Insane (Hermione)

Our strategic discussion over Severus’s scrumptious challah french toast did little to assuage my nerves. He was business-like and confident as he reviewed the various scenarios we might encounter, reminding me of a seasoned muggle general on the battlefield.

He tossed back the last of his coffee and stretched his arms over his head with a groan. Then he ruffled his long, silky hair, running his fingers through it distractedly. He had the beginnings of a five-o'clock shadow on his sharp jaw, and I wondered what it would feel like against my own cheek. Then he caught me staring at him, lifting the corner of his mouth in a smug little smirk. I looked away, desperately trying to hide my sudden blush.

The two of us cleared the kitchen all too quickly, and before I was quite prepared, we were climbing the stairs to Sirius’s bedroom. Severus opened the door with exaggerated gentlemanliness, beckoning me ahead of himself with a stately bow. I glared at him and practically tip-toed into the dusty room.

I tucked myself into the farthest corner as I had been instructed- my own wand tightly gripped in my right hand while Severus and Dumbledore’s wands dug painfully into my shaking, clenched left fist. I carefully Occluded, counting my breaths, fighting the panic that threatened to well up in my chest.

The man I loved moved with measured grace, extracting the vial from his trouser pocket, uncorking it, and tipping the contents into the former Headmaster’s open mouth in one smooth movement. Severus held his jaw closed and massaged his throat until I saw the old man’s pronounced Adam’s apple bob up and down. Severus stepped back and watched impassively, glancing briefly at his watch as if bored by the proceedings, but I knew he was noting the exact recovery period for his research.

Dumbledore’s eyelids fluttered gently open. He blinked a number of times, rather blearily. But then his head lolled to the side, and he focused on Severus. Fire ignited behind those sky-blue orbs, and he lurched forward with a great, animalistic cry.

His body seemed unwilling to cooperate with his commands as he tried desperately to reach for Severus. He let out an infuriated growl as he clawed his way to the edge of the bed.

Every passing second seemed to return more and more control to the old man’s uncooperative limbs. Quite suddenly, he had flopped onto the ground and was pulling himself to his feet with his left hand in a death grip on the edge of the mattress.

Severus took a few cautious steps backward, palms spread before himself placatingly. He spoke for the first time, his voice honey-sweet and soothing, “Albus, it’s me. It’s Snape. It’s okay. It’s all okay. You’re fine…” He continued to murmur in an attempt to pacify the man, but it appeared to be utterly futile.

Dumbledore was on his feet now, and he looked absolutely mad. His beard and hair stuck out in every direction, the bedspread was tangled around his feet and ankles, his eyes glittered with malevolence, and his pupils were enormous, reminding me of Crookshanks’ when he was in predator mode. He tried to speak, but the only sound that escaped his dessicated throat was an alarmingly Inferi-like groan.

With lightning-quickness that took both of us off guard, the man’s hand was around Severus’s throat. He was able to pry the bone-thin fingers from his neck fairly easily, but then Dumbledore brought his knee up between the young man’s legs. Severus dropped to the ground, clutching himself, as a single tear streamed down his cheek. Then his head snapped backwards as the old wizard landed a surprisingly powerful left-handed uppercut on his unguarded chin. I let out a squeak of alarm at this, and he took notice of me for the first time.

He took one shaky step toward me… then another. I leveled my wand at him in warning. His eyes focused on my hair, and vague recognition stirred deep in the wild azure depths. “Professor Dumbledore, it’s me, Hermione Granger. Do you remember me? I’m your student.” I called across the room, desperately trying to remain calm as the most powerful wizard in the world continued to advance on me with terrifying sluggishness.

But then the old man abruptly toppled forward, face-planting on the dusty wooden floor. Severus had taken him out at the knees. The two grown men tussled like boys on the playground, getting themselves hopelessly tangled up in Dumbledore’s robes.

But then our worst fears came to fruition. When Dumbledore’s eyes slid across the length of Elder I clutched in my lowered left fist, they suddenly lit up in fevered recognition. He had remembered he could do magic.

There was an enormous BANG! and Severus flew across the room, slamming into the length of wall between the windows. His limp form crumpled to the ground, totally insensate.

I expected to panic, to fall into terrified tears, to scream and cry for him to save me.

I did none of those things.

I swiftly passed the other two wands to my right hand. I swore I could hear Severus’s voice in my head, calmly repeating his instructions from this morning.

Dumbledore lurched across the bedroom towards me. Before he could manage to find his voice to curse me, I cried, “ _Colloshoo_!!”

He gave an inelegant lurch, toppling once again to the ground. He flopped over onto his side, feet fused with the floor, raised his singular hand and croaked, “ _Incendio_!” An enormous column of swirling, roaring flames advanced on me. Before I even had time to contemplate it, my mouth seemed to form the words of its own accord, “ _Aqua Eructo_!”

The combined power flowing forth out of the three wands I held in my hand was absolutely terrifying. I was flabbergasted that wands belonging to much older, more experienced wizards had deigned to bend to my will. But bend they did. The fearsome power of my counter-spell was such that Dumbledore’s fire was reduced to naught but steam in a matter of seconds.

He hurled a _Stupefy_ at me, but I mirrored it so effectively that he sprawled flat on his back, eyes rolled into the back of his head so that only the whites showed. I murmured, “ _Ebublio…_ ” and a shimmering force-field surrounded the wizard.

As he shook his head muzzily, I spoke, “Professor Dumbledore, it’s Hermione Granger. I’m your student, Professor, do you remember? You don’t want to hurt me. You want to protect me. Just try to remember.”

His eyes focused on me then, and there was no further sign of recognition. None of that signature sparkle. None of his grandfatherly warmth. He snarled at me, and flashes of multi-colored light played across the inner surface of the bubble that encased him. He flung curse after curse at me, but they were all absorbed effortlessly by the impressive Ebublio jinx the wands had conspired to produce.

But futility couldn’t slow the man’s feral rage. I kept my wands level, feeding a small but steady stream of magic into them to keep up the protective field.

Finally, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Severus begin to stir. Allowing myself a relieved sigh, I nevertheless kept my eyes trained carefully on the dangerous wizard in the middle of the room.

My lover pulled himself to his feet with some effort. His eyes were slightly unfocused but still glittered with their usual frightening intelligence. He assessed the situation immediately, shaking his head in frustration when he realized how poorly everything had turned out. His voice was heavy with regret as he murmured, “Knock him out for the night, tie him up, and ward the door, Hermione. We’re not going to make any progress today.”


	11. While My Guitar Gently Weeps (Severus)

_Shit. Fuck. Damnit. Cocksucking motherfucking shitstain! Why can’t anything ever work out for me?! Why can’t I experience even a single best-case-scenario in my entire goddamn life?!_

I paced irritably back and forth across the library later that afternoon, periodically taking enormous swigs from the priceless bottle of brandy I had pilfered from the bar cart in the corner.

“I honestly don’t think it went as badly as all that,” Hermione was protesting my most recent pessimistic rant.

I laughed disparagingly. “Of course YOU would say that, Little Miss Gryffindor. Those of us who dwell in **reality** recognize a lost cause when we see one. The man is as good as dead. There’s no more of Dumbledore left inside that wizard-shaped husk.”

“For a second there, he recognized me! I KNOW he did! But then you TACKLED him, and he went back into predator mode!” she cried, frustration barely concealed in her voice.

“Oh, so it’s MY fault, then?!” I shouted, instantly losing my cool, much to my own embarrassment. I swallowed a large amount of brandy as I avoided meeting Hermione’s eye.

She placated me like I was a petulant child, “Of course not. You did what you thought was right. But I could see a change in his eyes. There’s still _something_ in there…”

“But then he went straight to attacking you, Miss Granger!” I barked, gesticulating wildly with the bottle in my hand. “He hurled dozens of hexes at that bubble! He wanted to **kill** you, you naive little brat! And he would have done if I hadn’t been there!”

She laughed scornfully then, looking at me with disbelief, “If YOU hadn’t been there?! I took care of him on my OWN! I had him CONTAINED!!! YOU were unconscious!”

My cheeks heated with humiliation at her words. My wounded pride lashed out viciously. “I don’t know where you’ve acquired this notion that you’re some kind of magical prodigy, Miss Granger. You’re a quick study, and you work hard, but you’re nothing special behind the wand. I suggest you quickly disabuse yourself of this idea that you’d have been perfectly fine without me. The creature in that room would have ripped you limb from limb and _laughed…”_ I spat, utter disdain coloring every last syllable. Hermione’s face was the quintessential image of devastation as I swept out of the room.

 

That expression was still firmly lodged in my brain an hour later as I childishly swept a large pile of parchment off my desk. The portraits lining the walls scolded me, reminding me it would take over an hour to reorganize all those acceptance packets. I cursed them all, waving my fist impotently at the vaulted ceiling. They huffed and puffed in disapproval, but fell blessedly silent.

My eyes drifted to the corner, where I amassed the ever-expanding pile of mail that I hadn’t gotten around to opening yet. I recognized a tiny, black-papered package immediately. A mischievous grin spread across my face as I scooped up the box that had arrived by Screech owl the previous morning. I vanished the seamless wrapping paper with a wave of my hand and cracked open the tiny mother-of-pearl box. A minute vial and eyedropper were nestled carefully in a tuft of fluffy cotton.

I had purchased the LSD for an enormous order of Magic Carpet Ride I had gotten from the Order of the Phoenix. _The potion recipe doesn’t call for the volume of the entire bottle_ , I considered to myself as I sat on the edge of my bed. I immediately applied two tasteless drops beneath my raised tongue before I could second-guess my choices.

I busied myself as I waited for the drug to kick in, cleaning my quarters until they were spotless. I knew the slightest thing out of place would drive me nuts once I was tripping. I wandered into my bathroom, vaguely irritated as always by the gaudy golden fixtures and profusion of windows. I yanked my new shades across them, sighing in relief as blessed gloom engulfed me.

I stripped and strode into the enormous travertine-lined shower, and the dozens of jets pounding on my scalp were as heavenly as ever. I waved my hand with a particular flourish, and a hundred massaging jets enveloped me from every direction.

As I stared intently at the striations in the stone that made up the shower wall, I felt the acid kick in. The lines in the travertine began to undulate and dance, swirling in and out of one another as they appeared to melt down the wall.

I grinned madly and tossed my head back, reveling in the orgasmic sensation of the hot water cascading down my body. I waggled my index finger, and the heat rose by a couple degrees. My every nerve tingled and sang with pleasure. My head swam with the glory of sensation consuming my body.

I don’t know how long I spent in that shower, but my skin was hilariously pruned by the time I finally got overheated and turned it off. I threw my towel over the bathroom mirror to protect myself from examining my hideous visage. I dried myself with a spell as I loped, completely naked, across my expansive room. I flopped onto the bed, stretched luxuriously, and peered curiously up at the skylights.

 _Holy fucking shit!_ I marveled to myself, _I never realized how fucking trippy clouds are on acid! I can literally see every single miniscule movement all at once! But my eyes are also_ _creating_ _a lot of those movements… What the fuck is real and what isn’t?! Holy shit this is crazy!_

I watched those goddamned clouds far longer than I’d care to admit, but I finally dragged myself away long enough to pull on my loosest, most comfortable teaching robes and pick out a record. I found myself utterly paralyzed by indecision. After a few minutes of deliberation, I finally decided that since I was already in a self-flagellating state of mind, I just needed to get through it and come out the other side in order to have a positive trip. I removed Disintegration from its album sleeve, settling it carefully on the turntable and lowering the needle.

As the first strains of music echoed around the expansive room, I could actually feel the wind chimes shimmering inside my chest. My gut ached with the bittersweet lyrics of the opening song. Hermione’s face, heartbroken, betrayed, played across my mind’s eye. I sank into my bed as the album progressed, body and soul heavy with regret. I could feel every last note... of every single melody... deep, deep in my gut. My heart pounded to the tempo. My fingers and toes tingled in concert with the synths. Tears flowed freely into my damp hair as Robert Smith’s disillusionment and alienation became my own.

I began to sing along around the beginning of Last Dance. My deep voice echoed dramatically in the vaulted room as I positively blasted the album. Regret for my wasted adolescence... self-loathing and yearning for innocence in equal measure were stripped bare by my basso profundo. The dramatic strings of Lullaby pitted my stomach with childlike fear and dread. Fascination Street reminded me of my own perversion- my obsession with a girl nearly two decades my junior. I mourned how I lost control, how I violated her body... how I fantasized constantly about doing much worse to her…. I could practically taste her pouting lips against my own, her insistent, sweetly innocent tongue in my mouth, the salty, musky taste of her cunt…

Prayers for Rain pulled me into the deepest pit of despair, as it always did. Robert Smith’s meditation on depression was poignant and heartbreaking in its utter starkness. The next two songs weighed on my chest… I struggled for breath as I sang the lyrics… My voice cracked with emotion… A powerful torpor enveloped my limbs… I began to crave Hermione so acutely- miss her with such single-minded intensity- that I nearly flew out the doors, down the stairs, and out the school gates. I became increasingly despondent as I intoned the final few verses on the record as if I were recording my own funeral rites. 

The synths faded into nothingness, and I listened to the turntable revolving for a long time before I could summon the energy to change the album. My cheeks were tight with the salt of dried tears as I thumbed through my box of records.

I listened to The Wall and The Final Cut, which were absolutely transcendent in their intensity. But Pink Floyd’s themes of the innate cruelty of man and the alienation we all experience as individuals in a society that rewards narcissism and outright aggression weren’t much better for my state of mind.

I finally opted for The Beatles’ delightfully random and experimental self-titled white album, which improved my state of mind exponentially. By the time I was singing along heartily to Helter Skelter and Honey Pie, joy was once again bubbling and popping in my chest. Hermione’s face swam across my gleeful mind, and I abruptly realized that she would probably be sitting up in bed right now, unable to sleep, fuming with impotent rage at my stupid, childish outburst hours before.

I burned with the overwhelming desire to share my newfound peace and complete acceptance of the universe with her…

I **needed** to explain my insightful revelations of the past six-plus hours (although precisely what those revelations actually _were_ would be impossible to put into words now)...

After thirty minutes or so of debating with myself, my good sense lost out to the flighty, romantic idiot who’d taken up residence in the back of my head the previous autumn. I wondered absently if I should be concerned about splinching myself in my altered state, but I couldn’t muster enough energy to worry as I disapparated outside the gates.


	12. Happiness is a Warm Gun (Severus)

I fortunately made it to the stoop of Grimmauld Place in one piece, and I absently noted the late hour on my watch as I opened the front door. I snuck down the lengthy entry hall and up the stairs to the room Hermione typically shared with Miss Weasley. Finding it abandoned, I proceeded downstairs to the library. It was dark and empty, but I could just make out a glimmer of light under the door to the converted study.

I cracked open the door slowly, not wanting to disturb her in case she had fallen asleep. She peered at me over the top of an enormous book she was reading, curled up in a little ball atop a messy pile of blankets. The visual was so adorable, reminding me of a studious kitten, that I immediately broke into a shit-eating grin. Her eyebrows knitted together in a frown, and she closed the book with an irritable snap.

She studied me for a long moment before greeting me icily, “Good evening, Master Snape.” She was clad in a rather girlish pajama set- white flannel top and pants festooned with pink polkadots. Her face and eyes were slightly red, and her hair was coming loose from its hasty ponytail.

I failed to school my expression into one of formality, so I contented myself with merely smirking at her as I replied, “Good evening, Miss Granger.” I sidled across the tiny room to her bedside, then knelt down to look at her eye-to-eye. She squinted suspiciously as she watched me in silence. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior this afternoon, Hermione. It was completely uncalled-for. My pride had been wounded by the events in that bedroom, and I chose to take that out on you. That was wrong. I hope you can forgive me.”

She nodded after a second, letting out a sigh of either exhaustion, annoyance, relief... or all of the above. “I know WHY you said those things, Severus. Doesn’t make them any less crappy to hear.”

“I understand that, and you’re completely right to feel that way,” I replied, fighting valiantly to keep a contrite expression on my face.

But then I slipped, and the corner of my mouth quirked into a ridiculously inappropriate grin. I stifled it guiltily, but Hermione’s eyes narrowed to slits as she appraised me. “You’re high right now, aren’t you?!” she demanded, attempting to glare, but quickly losing it as guilt, shock, and amusement fought for control of my expression.

“Shit! Fuck! Damnit!” I cursed, sprawling backwards onto the rug as I finally burst into laughter. “I thought I was doing such a good job imitating a real human!!”

“A **real** human?!” she exclaimed, crawling out of bed to hover over me as I sprawled on the floor. “Did you take acid or mushrooms or something?!”

“Excellent guess, Miss Granger!” I praised her in my best imitation of a fawning professor, “Insightful as ever! Lysergic acid diethylamide it is!”

“So you decided to risk splinching yourself just to drag your hallucinating, giggly arse down here to annoy me?” she teased, leaning over me so that her lips hovered, temptingly, mere inches above my own. I nodded in agreement, reaching up to pull out her hair tie and bury my hands in her profusion of fragrant curls.

I tried to pull her into a kiss, but she resisted me, grinning down at me teasingly. “What makes you think you deserve to kiss me, hmm? Snapping at me like a petulant child then running off to do recreational psychedelics? And now you’re lying on the hard wooden floor trying to make out with a student half your age. Tut-tut. Hardly behavior befitting the Headmaster of the most respected institution of wizard learning in all of Europe!”

“Quite right. Quite right,” I nodded with exaggerated solemnity. “I don’t know whose crazy idea it was to give me this job... but I think they **might** not be right in the head…” I whispered conspiratorially.

Hermione broke into a fit of giggles, but I quickly silenced her, pulling her to me in a crushing, passionate kiss. Her tongue was like velvet against my own... so sweet, so gentle, so utterly exquisite in every way.

She straddled my hips after a moment, and the pressure of her against my growing cock was maddening. She ground against me in slow, deliberate circles as I grasped at her waist roughly, no doubt leaving bruises on her pale flesh.

Then her lips were on my throat, biting and sucking on the sensitive skin as a low growl of frustration sounded in my chest. She grinned at me, sitting up and beginning to unbutton her pajama top.

Blood pounded in my ears as inch after inch of luscious, milky-white skin was slowly exposed. I could do nothing but stare, dumbfounded, as she gracefully, teasingly, pulled the shirt from her shoulders with torturous languor. The candlelight cast a warm glow across Hermione’s flawless body. Her rosy nipples were soft in the humid summer air; as she moved, the light caught the fine dusting of blonde, baby-soft hair across her stomach and arms. Her frizzy, tousled mane formed a radiant halo around her head and shoulders. The end of a single intact spiral curl reached just far enough to tickle her left areola. My rhinestone eyes could make out every single teeny-tiny freckle that appeared to dance around her nose and chest like swirling nebulae.

The golden flecks in her chestnut eyes glimmered merrily as she gave me a shy smile; I continued to simply stare in open astonishment. I finally found my voice and murmured, “Do you have any idea how incredible you are?”

She blushed, and I watched with rapt attention as the flush quickly spread from her cheeks, down her throat and between her tits, to finally dissipate across her stomach. Fascinated by this phenomenon, I continued asserting passionately, “It’s true. You’re **incredible** , Hermione. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever beheld. You drive me mad with desire. Insane with jealousy. I’ve lost every last ounce of self-respect. I’m a hormone-addled teenager again when I’m...”

But before I could finish my thought, her lips were on mine again. She kissed me now with a fervor I had only experienced from her a handful of times previously. Her usual reservations and self-doubt appeared to have evaporated in light of my altered state. I simply laid back and relished the sensation of her feverishly hot tongue in my mouth- hungry, needy, demanding…

She broke the kiss for a split second, her eyes stared into my own from scarcely an inch away, then she smirked at me in a disturbingly familiar haughty manner. Next thing I knew, I was completely nude; she had vanished my robes wordlessly, with her wand across the room on the bedside table. It appeared that she’d been practicing wandless magic extensively since her encounter with Wormtail.

Her downy-soft skin was now pressed alluringly against my own scarred hide. I had never bothered putting on underwear after my shower, so my freed cock chafed maddenly against the rough flannel of her pajama bottoms. She shifted slightly, causing her velvety nipples to brush across my own hardened nubs. I gasped as tingles of pleasure radiated across my torso.

She pulled herself down, dragging her petite breasts slowly, teasingly, across my chest and abdomen. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to Occlude, but they flew back open within seconds as I felt her warm, wet lips encircle my right nipple.

I let out an incoherent cry; I tried to call out Hermione’s name, command her to stop, beg her to continue, but failed utterly on every count.

I could no longer string words together into thoughts.

She moved her attentions to my other nipple, laving it gently before biting and tugging on it with her teeth.

I realized I had been grasping her roughly by the upper arms, I knew I must be hurting her, but she didn’t seem to notice when I released her. She continued to torture me for what felt like hours, but she finally, blessedly, returned to honor me with a deep, sensuous snog that left me light-headed when she eventually pulled away.

She looked down at me, suddenly quite serious, with an inexplicable line between her thick, shapely brows. Her chest rose and fell as she took first one calming breath, then another. She seemed to steel herself, then whispered, so quietly I could barely make out her words, “I want us to have sex, Severus.”

My heart seemed to literally, physically skip a few beats as I struggled to comprehend what she’d told me. “What? Now? Here? On the floor?” I stammered, still grasping desperately at the tiny wisps of thought that floated hither and yon through my foggy mind.

She giggled nervously and replied, “No, of course not, silly! On the bed, obviously! But I want to… with you. Tonight.”

Before I could second-guess myself, I blurted out, “NO! I mean… not right now…”

I silently grappled with the angels of my better nature as my body howled at me in abject betrayal. Hermione’s face fell, and she scrambled off me after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. She choked back a sob, diving into the bed and burying her entire body, head and all, under the covers.

I continued to lie on the threadbare rug, refusing to move even a single muscle, as Hermione wept dejectedly. Wave after wave of remorse wracked my soul, but I knew if I went to her and tried to hold her, to console her... I would be inside her within the minute.

My voice cracked as I called across the small study, “Hermione. You don’t need to cry. You KNOW I want to. More than I’ve wanted **fucking** **anything** in my entire goddamn life. But it would be wrong for me to do that when I’m fucked up like this…”

She sat up abruptly, throwing the blankets off her with an angry huff, “Goddamnit, Severus! Only YOU would think you need to be noble in this situation! If anything, I’D be the one taking advantage of YOU! Merlin’s fucking beard!” Saltwater was still streaming down her face, but I had a suspicion that they had turned into tears of righteous fury now, rather than tears of melancholia.

I sat up and dragged myself the few feet across the wooden floor to lean against the wall directly across the room from her. I wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I should have been- sitting on the cold, hard floor completely naked- due to the wonders of LSD. My erection was still going strong, but I resolutely ignored it, willing the stubborn thing to _just fucking give it up already_.

I couldn’t think of anything productive to say, so I simply remained silent as Hermione glared at me. I watched the candle guttering; rivulets of wax dripped and pooled on the bedside table.  I had no sense of time in my current state, but I guessed that about five minutes passed in tense silence.

Her voice had lost its hard edge when she finally spoke again, “I can’t believe you’re still hard after this long…” She gave me a tiny smile before asking seriously, “So are you sure you’re not just trying to let me down easy? You know, ‘cause you’re not really that into me? You can be honest with me. Really.”

“Miss Granger, do you remember our lesson in Northern Ireland?”

“Of course I do! I thought you were going to DIE!!! And then our picnic by that beautiful little lake… it was so **romantic** … I daydreamed about it for months afterward like an insipid teenage girl!”

I grinned at her to take the sting out as I admonished her, “I mean the LESSON, Miss Granger. Not your FEELINGS during said lesson.”

She covered her face in embarrassment as she groaned, “Ohhhh CRAP! I AM an insipid teenage girl! Your lesson was that I should trust myself. Not overthink everything.”

“Indeed...” I pronounced smoothly. “You are more than sufficient, Miss Granger. Your mind, your heart, your **body**...” I emphasized. “It’s all MORE than sufficient. Never doubt yourself. You are everything I have ever desired. You lack for nothing. Do I make myself clear?”

She nodded firmly, but her voice wavered slightly as she replied, “Yes. Crystal clear... I just wish it were that easy to stop doubting myself all the time... I’ve been like this as long as I can remember.”

I chuckled darkly in response. “I know I’m not exactly one to lecture you on self-esteem. But I have grown into a different man since I’ve gotten to know you, Hermione. You empowered me.  To confess how I felt about you. To ask you for help when I needed it. To save my own life. I never believed that I deserved to survive this war. But you made me feel like I was worth something. Like I mattered. All I can do in response to such a precious gift is try to return the favor.”

She beamed at me, positively glowing as she rose from the bed. She pulled the heavy comforter over her shoulders like a cloak as she padded across the rug. The duvet settled over us as she plopped herself unceremoniously, and somewhat painfully, into my lap. She tucked her head into the crook of my shoulder. My cock stirred back to life against her shapely ass, but we both resolutely ignored him. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her so tightly that she let out an adorable squeak. I buried my nose in her ratty hair and felt every muscle in my body instantaneously relax in response to the familiar scent.

It was I who broke the long, companionable silence- rather uncharacteristically. “So why did you want to do that **tonight** of all nights? You usually get pissed off at me when I’m all fucked up,” I joked.

“That is so not true! Why does everyone always think I’m such a spoilsport?!” she huffed indignantly. “I only get mad at you when you DRINK too much and start acting like a prick. I’d much rather you do stuff that makes you _happy_ and _relaxed_ and isn’t **addictive** … like pot and psychedelics. Alcohol can make you really mean sometimes…” she trailed off uncertainly.

“You’re absolutely right,” I interjected immediately, not wanting her to think she’d overstepped her bounds. I wanted her to feel comfortable saying anything to me- even criticizing me. “I grew up watching my father turn into a monster behind the bottle, and behavior like that runs in families. I shouldn’t expose you to that bullshit. I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

“It’s fine, Severus. Honestly. I act crazy and irrational enough myself. I mean, booze destroys the liver and makes people dependent, plus it’s so easy to get alcohol poisoning… But I’ve read all sorts of interesting studies about the therapeutic benefits of drugs like LSD and DMT. They’ve seen really amazing effects on everything from post-traumatic stress to depression. And marijuana is life-changing for people with glaucoma and seizures. I think most mind-altering substances are criminally understudied, personally… I mean, look at your Magic Carpet Ride. That’s a perfect ex-”

“That’s it!!!” I interrupted her mid-word, gave her another too-tight squeeze, and laughed triumphantly.

She looked at me, brows raised in confused amusement, “What’s what?”

“That’s how we’ll fix Albus! We’ll modify the Magic Carpet Ride potion!”

Her mouth hung open with disbelief, “How on earth would getting him high help anything?!”

“It’s the astral projection aspect, obviously! You’ve heard of the term, I assume?”

“Obviously!” she snapped.

“Well, the potion sends your soul, your life energy, whatever you want to call it, OUTSIDE your body, right? You just float around, watching your empty husk twitching and convulsing on the floor. And then after a few hours you suddenly- whoosh!- get sucked back into your body! I’m willing to bet we could create a similar potion which could gather the ‘bits’ of his soul from out in the ether, recombine them... rather long-term I would guess... to eventually restore him to his previous state!”

Hermione’s eyes glimmered with the inimitable joy of intellectual stimulation as she positively shouted, “YES! And I bet we could incorporate muggle drug therapy as well! Anti-depressants like SSRIs and other similar medications might help kick-start his body to start producing the serotonin and dopamine he needs... The blood work I ran on him after you disappeared tonight showed that he’s running on practically nothing but adrenaline and cortisol right now! We should probably incorporate elements of talk therapy and Legilimency as well…”

We sprung to our feet abruptly and simultaneously, as if an alarm only we could hear had sounded. I summoned dozens of tomes from the library as Hermione dug through her backpack, triumphantly producing three of our spiral notebooks full of research from last term, her pine box of muggle books raided from her parents, a roll of blank parchment, and a handful of ballpoint pens.

Within the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, we had constructed a positive nest of academia around ourselves on the bed. We couldn’t be bothered to go in search of clothing (there were more urgent matters), but I had tossed a pillow over my lap for necessary protection.

There we spent the next day and a half- researching, discussing, arguing, working through page after page of speculative arithmancy equations only to vanish them in futility hours later. When one of us would get too exhausted to continue, we’d curl up for a catnap right there, with our heads nestled comfortably in the other’s lap.

Hermione would only leave the nest long enough to fetch dozens of cups of coffee and raid the pantry for any comestibles- biscuits, peanuts, slices of cheese- anything that didn’t take any of our precious time to prepare.  When we had finally produced a dozen potentially-viable recipes... and all the arithmancy came out positive... and we didn’t find any contraindications in her parents’ medical texts... we slept for twelve hours straight.


	13. First Breath After Coma (Hermione)

Severus spent the next week at Hogwarts- catching up on his neglected Headmaster duties, brewing batch after batch of experimental potions, and doubtlessly depriving himself of sleep. In the meantime, I watched Dumbledore’s unconscious body slowly wasting away, monitored his vitals every few hours, paced endlessly around the house like a caged rat, and researched psychological disorders in my parents’ (likely outdated) textbooks.

By the sixth day, I had a little knot of anxiety in my gut. By the seventh, I was convinced that the panic welling up in my chest would make me vomit any second. Dumbledore’s metabolism was running very close to a normal range now that he was only in a charmed sleep. I swore I could see his body eating away at his sparse muscle fibers right before my very eyes. 

I was seated on the edge of Sirius’s bed (chewing my bottom lip anxiously as I stared at Dumbledore’s sunken eye sockets) when I heard the front door open and close. I pounded down the stairs, idiotically setting off Mrs. Black’s portrait for the first time in forever. I leapt into his arms from half-way down the final flight. He caught me as gently as always, and my heart soared in joyful ecstasy as he swung me around in circles. 

My head swam when he finally set me back on my unsteady feet. Then he kissed me lustily as Mrs. Black continued to wail and curse at us. I raised my left hand at the exact moment he raised his right. Our dual unspoken  _ Silencio  _ charms were more than powerful enough; we finished our snog in blessed peace.

When we could finally manage to pull ourselves apart for more than a split-second, I took his hand and began to lead him upstairs. “Did you do it?!” I asked as the knot of fear sprang back to life in my gut.

He shrugged, voice noncommittal as he replied, “Maybe. I really, really wish I had some sort of animal model to test it on. Too bad that one rat of mine died nearly a decade ago... But it’s stable and non-toxic. I tested this batch on myself…” I interrupted him with a gasp of disapproval, but he ignored me, soldiering through, “...and I did actually feel SO much better when I came back down. Like I’d just had the most relaxing meditation session of my life followed by a solid day of sleep.”

I felt a tiny glimmer of hope in my chest, but I quashed it with reasonable doubt. “Well, nothing you give him could possibly make him any worse,” I grimaced as we entered the bedroom. 

Severus’s face was stony as he looked down his long nose at the wizard wasting away right before our eyes. Though he fought to keep his face neutral, I could tell from the small twitches at his jaw and brow that he was struggling with a lot of conflicting emotion. Underneath it all, I could see a childlike fear in his glittering black eyes as they darted across the old man’s face. Then he nodded his head, muttering to himself, “No point in delaying it…”

He deftly uncorked the vial of potion one-handed as he tipped Dumbledore’s head back with the other. The old man swallowed reflexively at the taste of the sugar-sweet potion on his dessicated tongue. We spent the next hour in the far corner of the room, observing fastidiously and noting any changes in his vitals. Severus stood at my back with his cloak wrapped protectively around me and his chin resting gently on top of my head. It was all so perfect and comfortable that I nearly forgot to be nervous about our experiment.

When an hour passed without him stirring even once, and all of his vitals remained stable, we retreated from the bedroom to the kitchen. We passed the next four hours alternating between scholarly discussion and frantic kissing as Severus prepared a leisurely Boeuf Bourguignon. 

He had obviously freshened himself up nicely between his grueling hours in the laboratory and coming to Grimmauld Place. He was clean-shaven, and his beautiful jet-black hair was recently washed and conditioned. It shone like silk in the light of the bright lamp that hung above the stove. He had been neglecting to trim it, so it brushed gently across the shoulder of his teaching robes when he tilted his head in thought. This set of robes was one of my favorites and particularly well-tailored. When he turned his back to me, I couldn’t help but admire how they hugged his slim waist and rose in a perfect triangle to his broad, authoritative shoulders. And when he bent over to check inside the oven, and I couldn’t help but admire  **that** view as well.

We spent dinner in a lively debate about multiverse theory. He was convinced that it was the only reasonable explanation for a large number of phenomena- everything from the existence of ghosts to how time turners could possibly work. I, on the other hand, found the whole concept way too science-fictiony. “But what about the laws of conservation of mass and energy? If every time you made even the  **tiniest** decision- a whole new universe was created- where would EVERYTHING that makes up that new universe some from?! The carbon and silicon and nitrogen and EVERYTHING ELSE that makes up all those planets and stars? Just poofs out of nowhere because you take the bus to work instead of driving? It’s complete poppycock,” I argued good naturedly.

“No, no! See, you’re always getting so caught up in your laws and theories, Miss Granger! Think outside the box for once! You forget that with quantum mechanics, the rules of the universe apparently cease to be! Light is both a particle AND a wave when you look at it on the quantum level! It SHOULD be impossible, but we’ve actually observed it! As Schrodinger’s Cat tells us: when you try to apply quantum theory at a macro level, it obviously looks absurd. A cat can’t be both dead and alive at the same time! It’s ridiculous! Just like an entire new universe ‘poof-ing’ into being is ridiculous! But it’s actually NOT ridiculous, which is what’s so awesome!!” he ranted as he gesticulated emphatically.

Watching him getting all worked up and arguing about academia has always been my favorite activity. It’s the only time he truly lets his guard down, talks with his hands, and uses more than the bare minimum of syllables. His dark eyes glitter like jewels and he even gets slightly flushed on the neck and cheeks if he’s REALLY getting into the rant. 

And he is so incredibly passionate about so many subjects! All of which seem really random and disparate until you realize the thread that ties everything together: Severus likes to look beneath the surface. He likes to bend things to his will, improve them, discover their secrets. 

His thirst for knowledge is unquenchable- something I had been desperately searching for in another person up to that point. I never loved him more than when he was ten minutes deep into a lecture on why my argument was somehow both contrived and overly simplistic at the same time.

By the time we had mopped up the last of the luscious broth in our bowls with our crusty sourdough, I was in a food coma and practically falling asleep at the table. But at Severus’s beckoning, I rose and followed him back upstairs. We held our wands at the ready as we lowered the protective enchantments and crept into Sirius’s bedroom.

I let out a squeak of excitement, but quickly covered my mouth with my hands, rather mortified with myself. Professor Dumbledore was propped up on his pillows, squinting at us across the expansive room. “Good evening, Albus…” Severus called to him softly. 

The old man’s eyes narrowed, his bushy grey brows coming together in a frown. I could see Severus’s shoulders tense up beneath his fitted black robes, but his voice remained sweet and gentle as he repeated, “Hello, Albus. I’m Severus Snape. This is Hermione Granger. We’re your… students. Do you recognize us?”

We took first one cautious step forward, then another, then another. I suddenly realized that I was standing almost completely behind his broad back, hiding and peeking around his shoulder like a wimpy little baby. I scolded myself and took an extra step to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him at the foot of the bed.

The former headmaster’s sky-blue eyes appraised us muzzily. There was no immediate aggression, but he didn’t seem to have a positive impression of us either. My voice cracked, much to my annoyance, as I spoke, “Professor Dumbledore, do you remember me? I’m a friend of Harry Potter’s.” His eyes definitely perked up at the sound of my best friend’s name. “Do you remember Harry? The Boy Who Lived? The Chosen One?” I asked leadingly, intently searching his face for any infinitesimal sign of recognition.

His dry, cracked lips peeled apart, and we both leaned forward unconsciously, desperate to hear what he might say. “Ffff….” he rasped. “Wuh-wuh-wuh…” he whispered. Severus sprang into action, “He wants food and water! Hurry, Hermione! Bring up a bit of the leftover stew and bring an entire pitcher of room-temp water with a bit of salt in it! Quickly! Quickly!” He moved forward to help the older man sit up, rearranging the pillows behind his back, as I scampered down the stairs as quietly as humanly possible.

We spent the next hour slowly, laboriously feeding Dumbledore. His mouth and throat were so dry and weak from disuse that he struggled to swallow anything but the smallest of bites. Severus fed him patiently, attentively, as I stood ready with the water glass when he needed it. 

The image of my love spooning tiny bite after tiny bite into the elderly man’s mouth was almost more than my ovaries could handle. I had never seen such paternal, doting behavior from him before. He had fawned over me once or twice, sure, but this was totally different. Some weird part of me, that I hadn’t known existed before, was  **super** turned on by it.  _ Gods, being a woman is so freaking bizarre. _

We couldn’t allow Dumbledore to eat more than a tiny bit or his digestive tract would freak out after going so long without food. But he was nodding off by the time Severus was scraping the bottom of the bowl. So we let him fall asleep and tip-toed out of the bedroom. We locked and warded the door behind us as I whispered excitedly, “I think that went really well! If he was cognizant enough to ask for food, that means there’s some real brain activity going on!”

He nodded in agreement, “Absolutely. There was a definite spark of recognition when you said Potter’s name. It’s too bad we don’t have the boy here, or we’d probably have gotten an even more positive result. I say we dose him every other day for the next ten days, then re-evaluate at that point.”

“I agree. There’ve been demonstrable effects. Let’s just pray they hold until breakfast tomorrow.”

“Indeed.”


	14. What Do You Want From Me? (Severus)

Albus was still cogent and alert when we fed him a light breakfast the next morning. He was similarly aware at lunch, though he seemed exhausted. By dinner, his eyes were no longer focusing on our faces, and he would get frustrated and angry if we didn’t feed him his next bite quickly enough. I dosed him with a Restorative Sleep Potion as Hermione rearranged his pillows and blankets in a doting, motherly sort of way.

We dosed him again the next day after a very small breakfast. He was nearly delirious by this point and unwilling to chew or swallow unless I commanded very sharply in my best professor voice. I decided to up his dosage 25% in hopes of improving the longevity of the positive effects we had observed. He tripped for just shy of 6 hours this time.

Hermione and I spent the intervening hours in our bedroom. We had intended to do some work in the library (I had brought a huge stack of parent inquiries that I needed to answer), but that didn’t last long. One moment we were innocently seated at the large library table with a stack of parchment in front of myself and a pile of notebooks, diagrams, and medical texts before Hermione. But soon she was complaining about a twinge in her right shoulder she had gotten from sleeping in an awkward position the night before.

I immediately rose and insinuated myself between the wall and the honey-colored oak table to stand beside her chair. I thumbed the offending rock-hard pad of muscle on her shoulder right behind her collarbone. She groaned deeply as I began to work on it.

She made a little squawk of pain when I dug my knuckles into the cramping muscle fibers. My cock stirred to life at the rather appealing sound.

I proceeded to squeeze the back of her delicate neck, firmly massaging away the tension there as well. But then she let out a long, low moan when I pressed my thumb into the hollow at the base of her skull. My extremities tingled as all the blood in my body seemed to rush between my legs. I felt my rock-hard cock twitch inside my fitted trousers when she made a little gasp of pleasure.

Before I quite realized what I was doing, my hand had abandoned its appointed task. My palm trailed slowly, teasingly around her slim neck. Then, seemingly of their own accord, my long calloused fingers wrapped none-too-gently around her throat. I gave a firm little squeeze, and she literally _moaned_ , tilting her head back to look up at me. Her chestnut eyes were beseeching yet innocent- inflaming my desires further.

“What a naughty little girl,” I purred softly as I smirked down at her, tightening my grip so I was only just shy of choking her. “Can’t concentrate on her homework. Just so needy all the time.”

She struggled to nod her head and gasped out, “Yes.”

“Always thinking dirty thoughts about her professor. Such a bad girl. Practically begging to be fucked like a bitch in heat. I bet you sit in my classroom all day just wishing you could touch yourself, don’t you?”

She nodded frantically, staring up at me with a wild look in her eye.

“You just want to spread your legs right there in class, don’t you? Pull up your school robes, yank down your panties, and shove your fingers into your tight little hole. Do you want me to watch as you fuck yourself under your desk with everyone around you too engrossed in their exams to notice?”

She barely gasped out, “Yes… gods, yes…”

“Do you want to wear a little plaid schoolgirl skirt to class? And spread your legs in the middle of a lecture to show me you’re not wearing any knickers?” I murmured.

Her cheeks were feverish and red by this point. Her lips were plump with desire and her pupils were heavily dilated. I fancied I could smell the scent of her arousal even from so far away. I kept a firm hold on her throat with my right hand as I inched down her body with the other.

I slipped beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. I slid a single exploratory digit between her labia. Her cunt was soaking wet, swollen, and so incredibly, deliciously warm. My balls tightened hungrily in response.

After a few short seconds of internal debate I let go of her throat, grabbed her by the upper arm, and practically dragged her into the bedroom... where we proceeded to spend the next five hours. Hermione didn’t ask for intercourse again, but I could tell she was trying to work herself up to it.

I very carefully monitored the proceedings to ensure nothing got out of hand again. I made certain that at least one of us was clothed at a time, and I kept a firm control over her. I knew if I let her take the reins again that it would guarantee disaster, and I wouldn’t be able to hold back from fucking the living daylights out of her.

I rolled over after giving Hermione something like her sixth orgasm of the session and happened to glance at my watch. “Ugh, it’s time…” I lamented. After a few minutes to get her wits about her and find the clothes that had been scattered all over the tiny converted study, we proceeded back upstairs.

The older wizard was sitting up against the headboard when we lowered the wards and opened the door. “Severus Snape, is that you?” he croaked. My heart leapt for joy, but I schooled my expression carefully. “Yes, Professor Dumbledore. It’s Severus.”

“Well get over here, my boy. I can hardly see you without my glasses,” he beckoned us forward. Hermione hid behind me once again as we moved closer. I opened the top drawer of the bedside table, removed the half-moon spectacles, and placed them gently in his hand. He settled them on his nose and ears with some difficulty (clearly his motor skills were still lacking).

He peered up at me curiously, “My, you do look terrible, my boy. Like you’ve aged thirty years!”

“Well, I am thirty-seven,” I chuckled wryly.

“Impossible…” he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.

But then he noticed Hermione for the first time. “Who’s this, then?” he asked, “Where’s Lily? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you without that little red-head glued to your side!” I felt Hermione’s hands tighten into fists, balling up the material of my cloak as she inadvertently let out a tiny gasp of shock.

I hastily replied, “This is Miss Granger, Professor Dumbledore. She’s one of your students as well.” He just shook his head muzzily and laid back against the pillows. “We’ll be right back with some dinner for you, okay?” I asked, and he gave a vague nod of acknowledgement.

Hermione was strangely silent as I began reheating some leftover chicken and rice soup from the previous night. When I turned away from the stove, I noticed her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Hermione...?” I asked carefully.

At the sound of my voice, the dams broke and she began to weep in earnest. I was utterly dumbfounded as I spluttered, “What?! What’s wrong?!"

She covered her face with her hands and stuttered, “Tha-that girl… You were crying about on Duh-Dumbledore’s floor in your memory! That was Harry’s muh-mum?! Lily Potter?!”

My head spun with bewilderment as I replied, “Well, Lily Evans, technically, but yes. She was the one. But what does it matter? I assumed you had figured that out ages ago!”

“How the FUCK would I figure that out, exactly?!” she screeched, throwing her hands up and looking at me with eyes that had now become remarkably deranged.

“I thought Harry would have told you about our friendship… About me being the reason for her death…” I stammered.

“He bloody well didn’t tell me any of that!”

I couldn’t help but remark drily, “Well, colour me impressed. The boy finally learns how to keep a secret…”

But this was obviously the absolute worst thing I could have said. Hermione flew into an apoplectic rage, “How could you keep this from me?! You didn’t think it was relevant information?! That you were madly in love with the most beautiful woman of all time?! I’ve seen pictures of her, Severus! She is like... supermodel gorgeous! How am I supposed to live up to that? And she’s fucking dead, so she’s always going to be frozen in time- this perfect, beautiful, fantasy woman who can never age, or fuck up, or argue with you, or freak out about stupid little bullshit!!! How could I compete?? How am I supposed to go on with you holding me up to this impossible ideal for the rest of my life?!”

I shouted over her, interrupting her since I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, “Don’t be so absurd, Hermione! I expected more maturity from you than this!” _Ouch, not a good opener. Nice one, dumbass._

Her eyes were livid embers, but I powered through nonetheless, “It’s not a fucking competition! There’s no comparison! It doesn’t even come close!”

She laughed loudly then, sounding quite insane, and flew to her feet, knocking her chair over. “You think I don’t know that I don’t even come close to her?! I don’t need you to fucking tell me that! She was your dream girl, and I’M JUST A HOLLOW, PALE REPLACEMENT FOR WHAT YOU LOST!!!” she spat.

My body was flooded with adrenaline, and my pulse pounded erratically in my temple as I bellowed, “Don’t you dare try to spout that bullshit in front of me, Hermione Jean Granger!” My finger was wagging accusingly in her face, though I couldn’t remember how it got there.

“Was she the only person who ever cared about me? Yes. Was she the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life? Yes. Did I love her? Abso-fucking-lutely! But there’s no comparison! She was a **fantasy** , Hermione! **You’re** reality!!”

“That’s exactly my point! She’s always going to be trapped in amber… a perfect specimen of womanhood for you to compare me to! How am I supposed to live like that??”

I stared at her in utter disbelief. My eyebrows felt in danger of disappearing into my hairline. “Oh, I don’t know! Maybe the same way **I’ve** managed to live these past 16 years?! You just fucking suck it up and MOVE ON WITH YOUR LIFE!!!!”

Appalled, her eyes widened; sparks of magic ignited inside her wild nest of hair. Before I knew what was happening, her wand was in her hand. I was dumbfounded- when her jinx came for me, I was nowhere near prepared to parry it. By the time I had managed to vanish the profusion of tentacles that sprouted all over my face, she had stormed into the front hall. I sprinted after her, screaming with incoherent rage that she couldn’t fucking curse her goddamned Headmaster just because she got a little pissed off.

When I caught up to her, I was stunned that she immediately grabbed the front of my robes in both of her small fists. She shoved me towards the door, hissing venomously, “Get the fuck out of this house right now! I’ll take care of Dumbledore by myself! I can’t fucking stand to look at you a second longer!”

“ **Fine** **then!** Just scream at me, hex me, and throw me out! That seems like a perfectly reasonable response to this entire thing! Great job, Miss Granger! Really mature, AS ALWAYS!” I spat, sarcasm positively dripping from every last syllable. I reached into an interior pocket of my robes and shoved the flask of Albus’s potion into her chest, forcing her a step backward and breaking her vice-like grip on me. “Here! Fucking enjoy! Psychotic! Bloody! Witch!” I stormed out of Grimmauld Place and disapparated from the stoop as Hermione directed a drawn-out, Banshee-like screech at my retreating back.


	15. Dug My Heart (Hermione)

A week and a half went by with no word from Severus. The days just dragged on- each one felt like an entire week unto itself. I slept like crap. If I hadn’t had to keep preparing food for Dumbledore, I probably wouldn’t have even bothered to eat.

I busied myself with reading through the books Severus had gifted me, even though it felt like an ice pick stabbing me in the stomach every time I opened up the little cardboard box to pull out a new volume. I sat up ‘til dawn nearly every night. As soon as I’d close my book and blow out the candle, I’d hear his voice in my head: _‘Was she the only person who ever cared about me? Yes. Was she the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life? Yes. Did I love her? Abso-fucking-lutely!’_

_How could I ever think I was good enough for him?! I’m such a stupid, vacuous, vapid little girl! No wonder he was never involved with someone before me! No wonder he had nothing but one-night-stands! What else COULD you do? Your one true love dies, and it’s your fault... I don’t think I’d have the mental fortitude to go on after that. I’d certainly never be able to get close to another person again._

_I guess I should consider myself lucky that he even gave me the time of day. Whatever paltry, inconsequential feelings he was able to summon for me… at least it was something. I certainly can’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else ever again…_

_I can’t believe he hasn’t sent an owl… I know we agreed to only correspond by muggle post for security, but you’d think he’d say_ **_something_** _! He’s probably so furious at me for the way I freaked out on him..._

_He never wants to speak to me again. He freaking hates me. And he should. I was never ever going to be good enough for him. He won’t even have sex with me because I’m so inexperienced! No man turns down sex!_

_Unless the girl is just super ugly…_

_I’m so obviously not Severus’s type. Lily was so much hotter than I am. I would kill to have her wavy, shiny, auburn hair. AND she was actually tall enough for him. AND she had the perfect hourglass figure. She looked like a freaking Renaissance painting in her wedding photos!_

_Ugh, I hate myself…_ On and on and on until I relit the candle and went back to reading.

Thankfully, caring for Dumbledore took up a large portion of my time. His motor skills were still shaky, so I fed him his three daily meals. His mental faculties improved steadily, though there were a few setbacks that made me anxious for a day until he was dosed again. I took to reading to him in the afternoons- everything from thrillers to dry historical texts. He seemed to enjoy these sessions, and by the time a week had passed, he was making requests for specific books.

He appeared to be suffering from some form of amnesia. He had no recollection of his youth. Certain names would ring a bell for him, but he couldn’t seem to recall anyone specific from the past two decades or so. He had expected Severus to still be a teenager, and he had no memory of me whatsoever. He recognized Harry’s name every time I brought him up in conversation, but he couldn’t tell me any details about the boy.

I tried to catch Dumbledore up on the details of his life, but I was quickly frustrated by this. Immediately after his dose, he would be at his most coherent. He could recall some of his fellow professors, though he couldn’t remember that he had been made Headmaster. And everything I would tell him would just utterly evaporate from his mind within a day and a half.

Under the guise of testing his memory, I would ask him questions about Severus as a boy. It seemed that the man I loved had spent most of his boyhood alternating between the hospital wing and detention. He waged a never-ending war with the Marauders, though it seemed that he came out worse for wear the majority of the time. Four against one are not good odds, even for a young wizard as precocious and ruthless as Severus.

And it seemed that he and Lily had been absolutely inseparable, until one day quite suddenly, they weren’t. Dumbledore told me that after Severus lost his best friend, he began to fall in with a certain gang of Slytherins- many of which went on to become Death Eaters. It seemed that this was when he and Lucius had formed their friendship, as well as the point at which he began to explore the Dark Arts.

By the next day, however, Dumbledore could no longer remember any of this. He could barely communicate basic concepts such as needing a drink of water or asking to be levitated into the loo.

I also observed an alarming lack of empathy. His blue eyes were strangely cold and dead when they looked at me- a disturbing departure from their typical perpetually twinkling state. One time I stubbed my toe on the leg of his bed so badly that it brought tears to my eyes. I was sitting on the floor, holding my foot and cursing, and he began to laugh at me. Not a good-natured chuckle, but a full-on cackle of glee at the sight of my pain. That laugh haunted for me days afterward. Such coldness and cruelty felt so very **wrong** coming from his mouth.

On the twelfth day, I gave Dumbledore the final dose from the flask Severus had pushed into my chest before storming out. He undoubtedly knew the exact volume it contained, and how many days it would take for me to administer that many doses. _That means that he’ll be coming with a new batch sometime within the next two days!!!_

I was simultaneously excited and terrified about seeing him- to the point where I was sure I was having a stroke from all the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Dumbledore would be dead to the world for the next six or so hours, so I found myself pacing the large house restlessly.

I decided to the take the risk of walking to the larger supermarket instead of the little corner grocery, even though it was significantly farther. I would be exposed and vulnerable, in a sketchy part of London, but I just had to get out of that house.

It felt SO good to finally be able to move and breathe the outside air again. London was hot, and smoggy, and cramped, and smelled dreadful, but it felt like heaven after being cooped up in that dank old house for so long. I absently noticed a dumpy little record store as I crossed a busy intersection to enter the market. Record stores were super rare since cassettes had largely replaced vinyl, and now CD’s were starting to come into vogue. I fondly remembered Severus ranting about how hard it is to find new albums when he wants them.

After I had purchased the absolute maximum volume of groceries I could shove into my backpack and carry by hand, I headed back to Grimmauld Place. I scampered across the intersection and just barely made the light. Before I quite knew what I was doing, my feet were carrying me into the record store. A tinkling bell announced my arrival to the clerk; he looked up from organizing a rack of sheet music to nod at me in greeting. I gave him a small smile then meandered down the nearest aisle.

I recognized MAYBE 5% of the band names on the records I wandered past, and that’s if I’m being generous. I hadn’t really been aware of just how specific and idiosyncratic people’s taste in music could be. Who knew that there were such genres as “Psychedelic Electronic Pop” and “Avant-garde Metal”?

When I reached the end of the second aisle, I happened to glance up at the posters that wallpapered the exposed brick. A huge advertisement for Radiohead’s newest album, released on the 21st of May, caught my eye. Severus had mentioned being excited about this record no fewer than five times. But he’d been far too busy with all of his work at Hogwarts to actually go find a copy.

Heart pounding with excitement, I practically sprinted to the Progressive Rock section of the little store. I quickly found the “R’s”, and the divider labeled “Radiohead” was right at the beginning. I thumbed through copy after copy of the two albums Severus already owned. And then ( _YES! YES! YES! YES!),_ I found a single copy of OK Computer, tucked into the very back of the stack.

I couldn’t help but beam at the clerk as he rang up my purchase. He made some sort of comment that I must’ve been having trouble finding the record. I just absently nodded in agreement; I was totally lost in my own thoughts. I was floating on a cloud as I practically skipped back to Grimmauld Place.

_He’s going to be so excited to get the record that he’ll totally forget what a crazy bitch I am! Maybe he’ll even forgive me for freaking out on him! I know that I’ll never compare to his memory of Lily, but I don’t even care anymore. I love him too much. Even if that means that I love him more than he loves me, that’s fine. I simply can’t live without him. I’m going completely mad not being able to see him! I’m never going to find someone who’s so smart, and powerful, and sexy, and uggghhhh freaking perfect in every way! I’d rather possess just a tiny sliver of his heart than have none at all._


	16. Last Dance (Severus)

_It’s for the best. I need to take this whole thing as a sign. I was so stupid to get involved with her in the first place. I can’t be Headmaster and carry on an affair with a student! It’s completely absurd. I’m endangering the school, I’m endangering the order, and most of all, I’m endangering_ **_her_** _._

_If the Dark Lord knew that I had more than a just simple perverted attraction to her, he would be able to use her as a tool to control me. I know all too well that if his wand were at her throat I would do anything He commanded. I would slaughter every last member of the Order to save her life. I would hand-deliver the Minister of Magic to Him. I would open the Hogwarts gates to the slavering hordes of Hell itself if it meant I got to keep her for myself._

_It’s good that she hates me now. It’ll make it easier to see her across the Great Hall every day- joking and laughing with her friends, coming to breakfast first thing in the morning to get some extra studying done, maybe even flirting and holding hands with the new boyfriend she’s undoubtedly going to have…_

The green-eyed monster in my chest roared in disapproval as I visualized Cormac McLaggen’s beefy arm around her slim waist, his nose buried in her curls as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. The memory of his mouth crushing against hers at Slughorn’s party was practically burned into the backs of my retinas. I could still see her delicate hands splayed across his chest, his wavy golden locks falling into her face as he bent over her, his filthy ape fingers digging into her hips…

I desperately attempted to Occlude, taking deep breath after deep breath. My guts twisted and churned with misery and anxiety as I fought my body’s mutinous response to the decision I had made. Logically, I knew I had no choice but to break it off with her. But it was making me physically ill to contemplate having that painful conversation with her.

I could see her crushed expression, the tears pouring from her soft brown eyes, the betrayal, the disbelief. She would see it as confirmation of her suspicions that I didn’t love her as much as I had cared for Lily. This was obviously complete hogwash, but the coldly pragmatic part of my mind knew that it was a good thing. It would make it easier for her to move on if she didn’t think I was still holding a candle for her. It could be a clean break.

I had no expectations that she would ‘wait for me’ or any such horseshit. Once I had broken her heart, she would be all too eager to move on. Now that she had some experience, and her physical confidence and desires had been stoked, there would be nothing holding her back. She’d be beating the boys off with a stick.

I apparated onto the top step of Grimmauld Place with an awful, sinking feeling in my gut. I swallowed hard as my nausea threatened to well up in my throat. I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath before wrenching the door open. I heard Hermione’s bare feet pounding up the staircase. I waited by the door, Occluding intently, as she slid to a halt a half-meter in front of me.

She began to speak immediately, blurting out, “Severus! I’m so happy to see you! I want to...” But I held my hand up imperiously, silencing her. Her jaw snapped shut as she frowned up at me in confusion.

My voice was ice-cold as I addressed her, “Miss Granger, I have brought more of the potion for Albus. This should be enough for at least a month. Hopefully by that point he will have shown some lasting improvement. I am entrusting you with the care of our indigent patient for the foreseeable future. I am extremely busy with my Headmaster duties, and I have far more important things to do than play nursemaid to an old man.”

She interrupted me, eyes nervously flicking back and forth between my own, “But you’re still going to be coming over, right?”

I focused on the air above her head as I shook my head curtly. “No, Miss Granger.” My stomach twisted horribly; I couldn’t help but cringe in pain. “I won’t be coming here again.”

“But why?” she shouted frantically, grabbing at the lapels of my waistcoat. “Why don’t you want to come back?!” Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets; her voice shook with trepidation.

I continued to stare at a spot a foot above her forehead as I sneered, “Because I have no desire to see you, Miss Granger. You hexed me. You put your hands on me in anger. You screamed at me and threw me out. Why would I choose to waste my precious time with someone who behaves in such a way?”

She began to bawl then, yanking on my waistcoat roughly, trying to force me to look down at her. “Severus! You can’t say that! I’m so sorry! I know I was wrong to act like that! But you can’t just end it because I lose my cool one time! I LOVE YOU! You can’t just do that!” she rambled desperately.

“I can and I have. Your actions made me realize how very poisonous this… thing... we’ve been doing has been. We have been making truly terrible decisions left and right. I allowed my feelings for you to override my responsibility, my **duty** … to Dumbledore, to Hogwarts, to the people who are dead because of me. You put yourself in danger, nearly being raped by Wormtail, because of me. You’ve endangered yourself and your future by becoming involved with me. Soon you will see how irrational you’ve been acting and realize this is for the best.”

She stomped her foot, screeching, “That’s complete bullshit, and you KNOW it, Severus! We’re stronger when we’re TOGETHER! Neither of us would have been able to figure out how to save Dumbledore on our own! We are GOOD for each other! It’s the rest of the world that’s wrong- not us!”

“Don’t you hear yourself, girl?!” I spat. “The rest of the world is wrong? What if a study shows a statistically significant result, but every other one on the subject fails to reject the null hypothesis? Are you going to base your experiment on that one study or are you going to trust the dozens of other people disproving it?!”

She was weeping dejectedly now, burying her face in my waistcoat as her whole body shook with her sobs. “I’m so sorry, Severus. I know it was wrong to attack you like that. With how your father treated you and all… I should never have put my hands on you. It was so awful of me. I’m an awful, terrible, horrible cunt. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…” She trailed off, just muttering the word “sorry” over and over again into my chest as she wrapped her arms around my waist.

I felt tears on my cheeks, and I wonder absently how long they had been there. I just barely managed to hold onto my Occlusion; I’ve had very few sessions with the Dark Lord that were more strenuous. I allowed her to hold me far longer than I should have, but I couldn’t help but want to steal a few more seconds with her. My throat was constricted with abject woe, so I could barely choke out, “I have to go. Here’s the potion.” I gently removed her trembling arms from my sides and placed a large flask in each of her hands.

I took one last look at her, and I was struck once again by just how heart-breakingly beautiful she was. Even with her face red, her eyes swollen, her brow wrinkled in grief, she was the most ethereal, exquisite thing I’d ever seen. Her trembling lower lip caught my gaze. I fixated… so pink, so wet, so plump and inviting...

Before I could stop myself, I was cupping her elfin face in my hands. I planted a deep, but incredibly gentle, kiss on her lips. I placed another lingering kiss on her forehead. With my head bent like a man in mourning, I spun away abruptly. I left the door open as I turned on the spot and disapparated.


	17. Tangerine (Severus)

I relived those final few moments over and over again in the following weeks. Her sobbing apologies. Her pleading. My cold indifference. It had all gone according to plan- with the exception of kissing her goodbye. That **certainly** hadn’t been intentional. I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew it was idiotic. I knew it would probably give her hope that I might change my mind.

But I was determined. Once I have something set in my mind, it can be all but impossible for anything to persuade me otherwise. _Hell, I threw away nearly two decades of my life because I decided I didn’t deserve to be happy. If I was willing to do that in memory of Lily, I can surely resist my own base urges in order to protect Hermione. I will love her until the day I die- that I’m quite sure of. And I can go on loving her from afar as she goes on with her life. It’s all for the best. So what if I can’t touch her anymore? At least she’ll be alive and whole._

The rest of June and the first half of July flew by in a blur of work and whiskey. I spent my days desperately reaching out to someone, ANYONE, who would be willing to take my vacated DADA position. The Dark Lord was pressuring me to hire Amycus or Alecto Carrow for the job, and I was having trouble convincing him that the students’ parents would never accept it. Both of them had arrest records a kilometer long, extremely negative reputations within the wizarding community, and absolutely no educational qualifications between the two of them. Amycus had only managed to scrape together one NEWT (in Divination, no less). Alecto wasn’t much better.

I begged every single witch and wizard that I could think of to take the position. I sent nearly a hundred owls and knocked on dozens of doors- all to no avail. Some people didn’t want to risk being victims of the “curse” that was supposedly placed on the job. A lot of people had jobs that they were unwilling to give up. Accepting a position at Hogwarts, some argued, could bring the Dark Lord’s attention onto them. Most hated me- resented my appointment to the position that Minerva deserved. Though I tried over and over again, I couldn’t come up with any arguments good enough to quash these very appropriate and relevant reservations.

By night, I drowned my sorrows in liter after liter of Old Ogden’s. I would blast Led Zeppelin and Rush, screaming out my frustration and torment and heartache along with Robert Plant and Geddy Lee. After many hours I would blessedly pass out, sometimes in my bed, but more often on the bedroom floor, my desk chair, the chaise, or the bathtub. Then I’d wake up with a pounding headache, vomit, take a hangover potion, and repeat the whole damned cycle over again.

 

I was already a few inches deep into my nightly bottle when my arm burned with white-hot agony. I cursed emphatically as I tipsily pulled on my Death Eater robes and dug my masque out from where I’d hurled it under my bed a few nights previously. I ceased this tirade as I proceeded rapidly out of the castle, concentrating instead on my Occlusion.

This was, thank Merlin, a fairly routine Gathering of Lieutenants. I had been the victim of His private ire just four nights previously for outright refusing to hire either of the Carrows. It had taken me days, even with the help of Hermione’s miraculous Cruciatus potion, to recover from the punishment I had taken. I was still rather shaky on my feet; I had torn ligaments in both of my knees as I thrashed around on the Malfoy’s drawing room rug. I couldn’t swallow anything but liquids for two entire days, having screamed my throat so raw that I managed to strain my vocal chords. But this meeting was about planning, not punishment.

The four of us knelt and took turns kissing the hem of his robes. We backed off to a respectful distance before climbing to our feet. He asked for updates on our progress, and Thorfinn Rowle was the first to speak, “My lord, my contacts at the Department of Magical Transportation tell me that the Order intends to move the Potter boy the night before his seventeenth birthday. They will attempt to move him by side-along apparation right before the Trace disappears at midnight. We will need to place a monitoring spell on the entire neighborhood in order to track his final destination.”

I spoke out of turn, earning a scowl from Rowle’s goateed visage. “My lord, this is absolutely untrue. I learned just today that the Order intends to move the boy exactly a week before his birthday. They planted the false information in the Ministry because they believe we have infiltrated it.”

“Well, they’d be right about one thing then,” Rodolphus Lestrange chuckled dimly.

I openly glared at my fellow Death Eaters as I continued, “The boy is going to attempt to escape on his broom, flanked by a contingent of aurors. We will be in the air above his house, ready to pounce the very second he breaches the limits of his mother’s protective enchantment. He will finally be yours, My Lord.”

Bellatrix interjected frantically, “My Lord, you cannot possibly believe the lies this vile worm is feeding us?! He is obviously trying to mislead you so the boy can escape while we’re distracted!! Why can’t you see he wasn’t trustworthy enough to replace Lucius as your Officer?!”

I snarled, “What sort of logic is that Bellatrix?! My nefarious plot is to make a few more of us than usual spend a night pointlessly floating about on our broomsticks, staring at an empty garden? If I WAS lying about the Order’s plot, and they ACTUALLY intended to move him right before his birthday, what DIFFERENCE does it make?! We would still have six days to place the tracking charm!”

I looked at her then with my most scathing, imperious smile. “Yet another example of your utter incompetence as an advisor, Bella,” I sneered haughtily. “You and your husband both. You contribute nothing to these meetings. Just arguing about irrelevant bullshit and making useless comedic interjections! It’s a fucking disgrace, is what it is.”

“Now, now, Severus,” the Dark Lord scolded gently, though his snake-like eyes glittered with amusement. “We shall enact your plan, my boy. I agree that there would be nothing for you to gain from deceiving us about this matter. If it turns out that they do attempt to move him three days from now, I will consider it proof of your enduring loyalty.”

I fell to my knees, scampering forward to kiss the hem of his robe over and over again. I made sure to really play up my gratitude and obsequiousness, carefully stroking his ego.

We passed the rest of the two-hour meeting in tedious discussions of logistics... who, what, when, where…

I went straight from the Malfoy mansion to the Hogwarts Owlery, sending out messages calling for an emergency meeting of the Order the following evening.

 

When I strode into the dilapidated formal dining room at Grimmauld Place, my eyes were immediately drawn to Hermione. Even in a crowd, her exquisite face stood out like a beacon in the night. I leaned against the mantle above the empty fireplace, as far away from where Hermione sat (sandwiched between George and Fred Weasley) as humanly possible. It appeared that all the children but Ginevra had somehow managed to con their way into the meeting. I carefully stared into the middle distance, avoiding eye contact and conversation with the others as the last few stragglers trickled in.

I began by clearing my throat quietly, miraculously bringing the crowd to order as surely as if I had banged a gavel. I quickly filled in those assembled on the Dark Lord’s plan to capture Harry. “We know that he’s had Death Eaters watching Privet Drive day and night all summer long. He’s going to send a few more of his best foot soldiers that night. But he’s preparing for Potter to be alone with no more than two or three Aurors as protection.”

Minerva cut in, inquiring, “But even then, that’d be quite a match for us! We have very few witches and wizards with the kind of ruthless dueling skills of the average Death Eater. Why don’t we try to get the boy out when they’re not expecting it? Fighting three is still better than fighting nine! It makes no sense!”

I sighed wearily, dragging both of my hands through my greasy, unkempt hair. “Because that’s the price we have to pay for having a spy in the Dark Lord’s inner circle. I NEED to prove my loyalty. I’m in a very precarious position right now. He is pressuring me to install a Death Eater at Hogwarts. I have been refusing. He does not take refusal kindly.” My ears detected a tiny gasp across the crowded room; out of my peripheral vision, I could see Hermione had covered her mouth in horror.

I continued, returning to my crisp, professorial manner, “But we will have an advantage the Dark Lord knows not. There won’t be one Harry Potter breaking through the protective enchantment that night… there will be seven.”


	18. Nobody's Fault But Mine (Severus)

_What could I have done?! She volunteered right along with everyone else! What was I supposed to say? ‘I know no one else has volunteered, and we had to blackmail Mundungus into it, but can we pretty please get someone else besides Hermione?’ I was backed into a corner. I tried to convince them to drop the number to six, but we already had seven volunteers to be protectors. Not to mention everyone was convinced that seven is a lucky number..._

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was personally responsible for putting her in harm’s way. _There must’ve been something I could have done. Some way to convince everyone she wasn’t up to the task…_

_But it’s not like the Order has an overabundance of bodies. We’re quite the rag-tag little group of misfits…_

_It doesn’t matter! I still should’ve stopped it. I should’ve cast a silent Imperius charm on her! Something! Anything!_

This internal debate waged within me during the long, boring hours I spent floating on my broomstick a half-kilometer above Petunia’s house. The outside looked exactly as I had pictured it- utterly unremarkable, with a fastidiously neat lawn and chintzy little curtains in all the windows.

A dull ache of dread had settled into my chest. I could hear every single beat of my heart, thumping deafeningly in my eardrums.

At 11:53 PM, the first pair suddenly burst into sight, hundreds of meters below us. The Death Eaters dove as one- a swirling cyclone of death heading for the pair that sat astride a racing broom. As we closed to within 100 meters, six more Harry’s suddenly popped into existence all around us.

My fellow Death Eaters let out cries of alarm, zig-zagging this way and that, completely breaking formation. Rowle screamed orders at the others, but his voice was lost in the wind, our whipping cloaks, and the bellowed spells that were now flying in every direction.

I made a sharp bank to the left, deftly avoiding a careless Cruciatus Curse as I scanned the crowd. The pairs were now methodically shooting off in every direction while the Death Eaters tore after them in haphazard pursuit. Rowle magically amplified his voice, trying to assign each of us to a pair, but in the confusion, one of the brooms and one of the Thestrals had already escaped from view.

I tore off my masque and cast an Eagle Eye Charm on myself to keep an eye on the other groups as I sped off in pursuit of the Harry that Rowle had indicated to me. As I closed in, I could make out Lupin’s haggard silhouette against the bright, nearly-full moon.

George was hurling curse after curse at Rookwood and myself. I silently congratulated him for making it seem convincing. But I could only pretend to send my spells wide for so long. Rookwood was a useless lump, but I had a reputation as a skilled duelist. It would be suspicious to not get a good, solid hit.

I took careful aim, waiting for the gusting wind to abate for a split-second, then bellowed, “Sectumsempra!”

Blood spurted like a fountain from the side of George’s head. He let out a piercing, high-pitched scream and slumped forward. Remus just managed to catch him, pointing his wand over his shoulder and hitting Rookwood with a solid Impedimenta. The Death Eater plummeted to the ground, though he would surely save himself with a last-minute Arresto Momentum.

I swung around in a wide arc, barreling towards the next closest group that I could just barely make out with my charmed eyes. I heard an audible POP! behind me as Lupin apparated safely away with the Weasley boy.

As I closed in on the next group of dueling wizards, it quickly became obvious that this was considered a prime target. Three Death Eaters were in hot pursuit of the pair, who were holding their own quite admirably. The adult on the thestral was a large male, and when the moonlight reflected off his dark face, I realized that Hermione was in mortal danger.

Just as I was closing into spell-casting range, Hermione got a solid hit on an unidentifiable Death Eater. He plunged to the ground, screaming wildly and thrashing around in a panic as his fingers scrabbled frantically over his swollen, pustule-covered face. I wasn’t confident that he’d regain his composure quickly enough to save himself.

The thestral was struggling valiantly to stay ahead of the far-faster brooms, and the Death Eaters were attacking it just as viciously as they were the people riding on its back.

With a grim determination, I swooped into formation behind the two remaining pursuers.

I leveled my wand at the unguarded back of the wizard I was fairly certain was Gibbon.

I cleared my mind, focusing on my white room.

I took two deep breaths, exhaling slowly.

I whispered, “ _Avada_ _Kedavra…_ ”

A burst of green light.

A limp figure flipping end over end, tumbling through the air as it plummeted to the ground.

I could hear no sound but the ringing in my ears. My extremities tingled with pleasure. My heart soared, sapped of all hatred and fear by the Unforgivable Curse. I was as high as I’d ever been.

I was vaguely aware that the other black-cloaked figure had spun around on his broomstick to face me. Rodolphus Lestrange ripped his masque from his face, bellowing at me, “TRAITOR!!!”

The distance between us closed rapidly. I rolled to the left to avoid a Cruciatus that came dangerously close to hitting home.

I raised my wand to curse my fellow lieutenant, but my magic responded sluggishly, and the spell died inside my wand. I hadn’t slept or eaten in three days, and I had utterly drained myself with the resolve needed to force out a Killing Curse.

There was a sudden burst of green light.

As the body tumbled away, I expected to see Shacklebolt’s wand pointing at the empty space between us.

But he was busy casting healing charms on a large, heavily bleeding wound on the Thestral’s right flank.

It was Hermione’s wand that lowered, rock-steady, as she watched the corpse crash into forest canopy hundreds of meters below.

Our eyes met for a split second that seemed to stretch into infinity. She didn’t possess the haunted, regretful air that I expected.

Instead, Harry's face was stony.

Confident.

Powerful.

She mouthed words to me across the expanse of sky, but I couldn’t make them out.

Then she was gone in a blink, as Kingsley disapparated the three of them to safety.


	19. I Wanna Be Yours (Hermione)

The intrigue of the Minister’s visit had certainly been a welcome distraction for the three of us. Everyone at the Burrow had been down in the dumps for a week about losing Mad-Eye. He was our general- one of the few in the Order who had seen real combat. And no one was taking his death harder than Tonks. She had lost all of her signature vivacity. Even her hair was an uncharacteristically mournful black.

The ‘Golden Trio’ was (mostly) happily reunited since Ron had taken me aside the night of the Seven Potters to beg my forgiveness. He apologized over and over again, clearly embarrassed that he had completely misread all of my signals. He was still acting super awkward around me, but Harry and I seemed to have an unspoken agreement to pretend like nothing unusual was going on.

The three of us spent the afternoon hiding in the cornfield from Fleur and Mrs. Weasley’s frantic last-minute wedding preparations. There were really no jobs left that the three of us would be of any use for, but Mrs. Weasley would fly into a rage if she spotted anyone loafing around unproductively.

We celebrated the demise of Harry’s Trace by transfiguring corncobs into candy corn, which we snacked on as we debated the significance of the items in Dumbledore’s will. The boys were pressuring me to ask him about it, despite the fact that I told them over and over again that he’d only managed recall a few people’s names and a handful of major events from the past decade.

But I was disappointed when they got sidetracked and began arguing about some stupid Quidditch rule or something. In actuality, I would have been perfectly happy even if they had spent the rest of the day pestering me. Harry and Ron were the only people in the house who were still treating me like normal. Everyone else was tip-toeing around me, fawning over me, acting all doting and concerned. Despite me begging him not to, Kingsley told the rest of the Order about the Death Eater I had killed.

Mrs. Weasley would get tears in her eyes every time she looked at me- obviously mourning the loss of my innocence or somesuch. I was sorely tempted to tell everyone that I helped kill a Death Eater last Christmas, so this wasn’t even that big of a deal, but I couldn’t betray Severus’s confidence. I certainly expected to be taking it harder than I was. If anything, I felt guilty that I didn’t feel guilty **enough**. _I had no choice. He knew that Severus was working against them. It was his life or Severus’s. I did what I had to do. This is war._

At some point (unbeknownst to me), Professor McGonagall and Severus had revealed our ruse concerning Dumbledore’s death to the rest of the Order. _What I wouldn’t have given to be a fly on the wall_ **_that_ ** _night!_ Now that I was back in residence at the Burrow, a rotating schedule had been established among the elder wizards to care for Dumbledore. I was confident that seeing familiar faces would have a tremendous positive effect on his recovery. He had already improved far beyond my expectations during the last month.

Harry and Ron were also a welcome distraction from my constant obsessing about Severus. I had seen him exactly three times in the month since he’d dumped me: the Order meeting in the formal dining room of Grimmauld Place, at the Burrow on the night of the Seven Potters when he came by to offer his condolences for Moody, and of course… when I murdered a man (possibly two?) to save his life. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was thinking about what had happened. That didn’t keep me from speculating though.

_I’m sure he’s beating himself up about it. He’s probably like Mrs. Weasley and is convinced I’ve lost some sort of nebulous sense of ‘innocence’... whatever the heck that is. I’m sure he finds himself personally responsible…_

_But maybe he’s happy? Not that I killed someone, obviously, but because I proved that I can handle myself. He’s always going on and on about how guilty he is for putting me in danger all the time. Maybe this will prove to him that I’m not this scared, weak little girl like he thinks. I just wish he would see that I’ve been putting_ **_myself_ ** _in danger since my first year at Hogwarts! It just goes hand-in-hand with being Harry Potter’s best friend..._

_No, he’s always been determined to treat me like a child. Always trying to make my decisions for me. Protect me from every little thing. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell him otherwise. He absolutely refuses to give me any agency..._

I was far more concerned, however, with how he was managing without me to look after him. He had looked absolutely dreadful at the Order meeting. I could see the telltale Cruciatus tremors in his hands. His voice was also rough and scratchy, like he had an injury healing in his throat. When he said that he’d been refusing Voldemort’s orders, I was sure I was about to throw up right there on the dining room table.

I was wracked with guilt, thinking about him coming home from being tortured. All those hundreds of stairs up to the Headmaster’s tower office on the top floor… at least before he only had to stumble down to the dungeon. The only thing I could see when I closed my eyes was him- crawling on his hands and knees up all those hard flagstone stairs as his legs shook excruciatingly.

_I should be there with him right now. I should be taking care of him. Why doesn’t he freaking see that?! He NEEDS me!_

_I’ll convince him. I know I can do it. He doesn’t really want this…. He’s just spouting his typical noble crap. He’s only able to pull this off because he’s avoiding me. If I could just talk to him..._

_Please, Merlin, let him be coming to the wedding!_


	20. Wish You Were Here (Severus)

_I swear to Merlin, if they’re not here I’m going to go ballistic! Two fucking weeks backorder for maximum strength acetaminophen?! I don’t know how I allowed my anxiety about looking like an idiot in a muggle drugstore convince me to order from an online pharmacy! I could have bought a thousand bottles in the two hours it took me on Lucius’s computer to figure the damned web-sight thing out..._ I was grumbling irritably to myself as I entered the Hogsmeade Muggle Post Office.

I let out a sigh of relief when I saw the little slip of paper inside my PO Box. _Thank the gods… I can’t survive another round of torture without a batch of Hermione’s Cruciatus potion…_

But when I pulled it out, I noted with confusion that the date of arrival was some three weeks previous. The wizard behind the counter glared at me as I slid the slip across to him. “About time you bothered to pick it up. It’s not like I’ve got a ton of extra space here, you know. I can’t be storing your shit for a month just because you were too lazy to come get it."

I gave some vague apology in response, practically snatching the large padded envelope out of his hands. “Fucking prick…” he muttered as the door slammed shut behind me. I immediately recognized Hermione’s handwriting on the outside. My heart began to pound in my throat as I ripped open the padded mailer. I carefully tipped the contents of the envelope into my hand. I recognized the album artwork in an instant.

 _HOLY FUCKING SHIT!! IT’S FUCKING OK COMPUTER!! How did she know how badly I wanted this record?! I think I talked about it, like, one time_ **_maybe_** _! And she bought this and mailed it to me just days after I fucking stomped her heart into the ground?! Why would she do such a thing?! Didn’t she hate me?!_

I practically sprinted back to my quarters. My hands were shaking with excitement as I ripped the protective plastic off the jacket. I had a huge grin on my face as I gathered up my water pipe and packed it with a skunky Indica strain that gives a particularly excellent body high. I reverentially placed the record and lowered the needle; as the first strains of music echoed around the high-ceilinged room, I took a gigantic hit.

As the album unfolded around me, I was struck, as always, by how raw and emotional Thom Yorke’s vocals could be. He’s able to capture disaffected loneliness in such a quintessentially honest way that I’ve never heard before or since. And always with such simple, understated lyrics too.

I was struck dumb by Subterranean Homesick Alien- it literally felt like it could have been written by me. Exit Music (For a Film) built to such an emotional crescendo that I broke into tears. I couldn’t help but think about my own forbidden love. My shoulders shook as my body was wracked with sobs. Tears continued to stream down my face through the next few songs as I took one huge hit after another.

Karma Police felt like a warm hug despite the fact that it was hardly an upbeat song. Then the bizarreness of Fitter Happier brought me out of my melancholy. I was able to appreciate the technical mastery of the next few songs- especially the droning (but somehow still catchy and singable) No Surprises.

And then I was struck dumb by Lucky. I couldn’t smoke, couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink. The blaring guitars swelled gloriously inside my chest. I felt as if I could float out of my seat each time Thom’s voice came to a sweeping crescendo. At the same time I felt the intense, overwhelming anxiety and fear inherent to the song. My heart was pounding, my fingers numb, my arms covered in goosebumps. Then finally the listless, languorous, soothing melodies of The Tourist gave me blessed reprieve. By the time the needle popped up, I had already crossed the room to start the album over again from the beginning.

I opened my wardrobe in search of more comfortable clothing while Airbag blared at a volume that was probably causing permanent damage to my eardrums. The lustrous fabric of my nicest black-tie dress robes caught my eye. _Oh yeah, that’s right… Bill Weasley’s wedding is tomorrow evening._

_Maybe I should go to be polite? I was invited, after all._

_What the fuck?! No. You don’t_ **_voluntarily_ ** _attend parties._

_But Hermione will be there… I should thank her for her incredible gift… And, you know, for saving my life and everything…_

_No. You’re just being weak. You’re losing your resolve. You need to stay away from her._

_That’s why the wedding is perfect! There will be far too many witnesses around for me to lose control! I can simply express my gratitude to her. Completely platonically. I can do it. I can DEFINITELY do it…_ I was mired in this debate until the early hours of the morning. Exhaustion finally claimed me around the time the sun began peeking through a crack in my curtains.

Twelve hours later, I was slightly dumbfounded to find myself following the usher to an empty seat inside an enormous, gauzy tent. I had arrived fashionably late, so I didn’t have to wait long for the ceremony to start. Since I hadn’t RSVP’d, I was shoved towards the back and off to the side. Hermione, however, was seated in the second row between Ronald Weasley and a random red-headed boy I easily deduced was Harry Potter with a dose of Polyjuice.

The wedding was lovely... I assume. I didn’t pay much attention. My gaze was laser-focused on the back of Hermione’s head. She wore her hair down, and it looked like she’d treated it with that potion that made it far more tame and manageable than usual. She had swept it to the side and secured it with a few jeweled pins, so that an incredible mass of huge, glossy ringlets cascaded over her left shoulder. Her right shoulder was distractingly bare.

The end of the ceremony took me by complete surprise. The walls of the tent vanished as everyone, with me lagging a few seconds behind, rose to our feet and applauded. The seats rearranged themselves as tables appeared out of nowhere. The guests dodged floating chairs, gasping and pointing around, commenting on the whimsical, beautiful decor that sprang into life all around. I, meanwhile, made a beeline straight for the bar.

I ordered two double Ogden’s neat as the smarmy bartender commented that I “must be looking to party”. I simply glared him into an abashed silence as he handed me my drinks with an averted gaze. I found a chair in an unoccupied corner and settled down to get wasted on free booze and glower at all the happy people.

I spotted Hermione in the crowd almost immediately. I could now see that she was clad in a silky, strapless black cocktail dress that was quite fitted and ended just above her knees. She wore it bare-legged with a pair of red patent leather peep-toe pumps. I couldn’t imagine how she even managed to sit in that dress, it was so fucking tight. The cherry on top of this sundae of sheer torture: she had painted her lips a striking fire-engine-red, which she had topped off with dramatic winged eyeliner and smokey eyeshadow. _Merlin help me..._

She sat at a table with her posse for around fifteen minutes. Her back was to me, but I could tell that she wasn’t speaking nearly as much at the others were. They were all drinking Butterbeers, and it looked like Ginevra had snuck in a flask of something. She kept looking around innocently as she slipped each of their bottles under the table for a few seconds. I rolled my eyes in amusement, _Oh, to be a teenager again. I sure miss drinking for fun rather than necessity._

Before too long, Ginevra had dragged all of them onto the dance floor. I watched Hermione like a hawk, not even caring whether anyone noticed me staring. A number of people came over to say hello and/or thank me for coming to the wedding. I tried valiantly to be polite, but I’m severely lacking in the ‘making small-talk’ skill set. Fortunately, everyone knew me well enough and had the good social grace to leave me alone after a few minutes of pleasantries.

I was childishly paranoid that the Weasley boy was going to try to take advantage of the romantic atmosphere to make another move on Hermione. _And maybe she’d let him. She’s certainly dressed like a woman who wants attention._

I knew I was acting completely insane… and I wasn’t even making an effort to be subtle... but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. I bristled whenever any male, young or old, came within a meter radius of her.

And then, much to my horror, the band began to play a slow, jazzy number. A young man, obviously a Delacour cousin judging by his looks, held out his hand and asked for a dance. She shook her head, but Ginevra pushed her into his arms anyway. Hermione laughed awkwardly and shrugged, placing her small hands on the handsome man’s broad shoulders.

My blood boiled. An angry buzzing in my skull drowned out all thought. My vision tunneled to the point where no other humans existed in the entire universe besides the woman I loved and the blonde man with his hands on her waist. (Disgusting hands that would soon longer be attached to his arms.)

I was rage incarnate.

I was going to murder a complete fucking stranger in the middle of a beautiful wedding.

It took every last ounce of resolve in my body and soul to remain seated for the three minutes it took the longest song of all time to end. The only thing that kept me from completely losing my mind was the fact that she never once made eye contact with the good-looking stranger. I let out a sigh of relief when he gave her a formal bow and disappeared into the crowd.

She went on to dance a waltz with Professor Flitwick after that. And then she giggled dizzily as Arthur Weasley spun and dipped her through the next song. I thanked the heavens for these blessings, as my blood pressure had finally returned to a non-life-threatening range. I was fairly certain I was on the verge of a myocardial infarction if the torture had gone on much longer.

_Goddamnit. Fucking idiot. What the fuck were you thinking? In what universe would you EVER be able to deal with seeing Hermione with someone else?!_

The band announced they were taking a break, so Hermione turned in my direction, scanning the edges of the dim, candle-lit tent for an open table. When her eyes fell on me, her jaw dropped open in disbelief. She quickly pulled herself together, looking around to make sure no one had noticed her reaction. She led her friends to a table a few meters away from where I sat, nursing the bottle of whiskey I had summoned to myself when the bartender had his back turned.

Hermione sat facing me, right in my line of sight.  I could just barely make out the conversation she and Ginevra were having while the boys went off in search of fresh drinks. “Oh. My. God. Hermione! That guy was soooo hot! You need to go find him and get another dance! And then maybe something else…” she teased, giving her friend an exaggerated wink.

Hermione rolled her eyes in response, replying exasperatedly, “Ugh, Ginny, stop. I’m so not interested.”

“What the fuck is wrong with him?! He’s **gorgeous**! Is it that he’s a couple years older than you?”

Hermione cracked up then- far longer than was likely prudent. “No, that’s not it,” she choked out between fits of giggles, “he’s just not my type.”

I could hear the suspicion in Ginevra’s voice as she inquired, “Well, what exactly **is** your type then?”

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly, “Oh, you know... Strong, silent type... Tall, dark, and handsome. The usual.”

Ginevra was poised to continue her interrogation, but she was blessedly interrupted by the boys bursting in to tell some insipid story about a drunk friend they saw at the bar. I didn’t absorb any more of their conversation. I was too busy staring- searchingly, intently, questioningly- into Hermione’s eyes.

She barely spoke to her friends; she simply stared back at me. When the band started back up, the three of them tried to drag Hermione onto the dance floor. She waved them off repeatedly, complaining that her feet were killing her and her heels were way too uncomfortable to dance in anymore. After a long few minutes of cajoling, they finally gave up and disappeared into the crowd.

Hermione stood and stretched her arms above her head, glancing around casually, checking to make sure she wasn’t being observed. She stared at me one final time, searing me with her smoky-eyed gaze, before turning on her heel and meandering out of the tent. I watched her disappear around the far corner of the house. I counted to one-hundred, made sure no one was looking in my direction, and strode off after her.


	21. Trembling Hands (Hermione)

_Is he going to come?! I bet he’ll decide it’s too risky to sneak out of the party to see me…_

I fretted silently as I fiddled with the thin gold bangles I wore on my right wrist. I was perched on the corner of the workbench in Mr. Weasley’s little shed. The shed was conveniently located in the side yard, far from the prying eyes at the wedding reception. Even though I was expecting it, I still jumped slightly when the creaky old door was yanked open.

He pulled the door shut and latched it with some difficulty, then turned to stare at me in silence. We watched one another warily from opposite sides of the little shed. I opened my mouth to speak, but second-guessed myself and closed it again. _OH MY GODS WHAT IS HE THINKING?! WHY WON’T HE FREAKING SAY SOMETHING??!!_

A full minute passed with no response other than his intense, opaque eyes continually sweeping up and down my body. _UGH THIS FREAKING JERK! HE DUMPS_ **_ME_ ** _AND I SAVE_ **_HIS_ ** _LIFE AND HE CAN’T EVEN SAY A_ **_WORD_ ** _TO ME?!! SELFISH FUCKING ASSHOLE!_

I abruptly hopped down from the table and stomped across the few meters that separated us. _Why does he have to look so freaking hot?! I’ve never seen any other man with the bearing to wear a cummerbund, bow tie, and tails while still looking like a complete badass. Stupid sexy jerk!_

His hair had gotten significantly longer, and the ends had a slight wave to them as they pooled around his shoulders. His beard had come in all the way as well, and I was embarrassed with myself when I thought lustily that he looked just like Aragorn.

He gave me a little smirk then, and I immediately lost it. Before I knew what was happening, my open palm was speeding through the air to connect solidly with the left side of his face. I let out a yelp, cradling my hand to my chest, completely caught off guard by how badly it hurt.

He touched his whiskered cheek lightly with his fingertips, brow wrinkled in confusion and dismay.

I was instantly flooded with guilt, throwing my arms over his shoulders and rambling incoherent apologies.

Immediately, his lips were against my own. I opened at his insistence, and his tongue plunged into my mouth with punishing urgency.

Then he bit my bottom lip, pulling on it so hard that I screeched in pain. I shoved him, and he retreated a half-step back. “You’re... a fucking... asshole!” I gasped furiously. He simply nodded in agreement, already reaching for my waist to pull me back into him.

I braced my hands on his broad, muscular chest, holding him at bay and snapping, “What’s your fucking problem, huh? You dump me and disappear for a month! You completely refuse to even LOOK at me in the Order meeting! I save your fucking life and hear NOTHING from you?!” My heart was racing, my vision red with fury, but my underwear were completely soaking wet.

I let out a squeak of surprise as he hooked his right hand into the crook between my arse and thigh and pressed my hips roughly to himself with his left. Before I knew what I was happening, he had swung me around and now held me, suspended, between himself and the door.

I had forgotten how enormous and intimidating his erection was when it was pressing insistently against my vulva. My legs were wrapped securely around his hips, causing my tightly-fitted dress to ride all the way up to my waist.

He ground himself against me slowly, face buried in the hair piled over my shoulder, purring into my ear, “You’re right, Hermione. I **am** an asshole. I’m probably one of the worst people in the entire world. And you murdered two men to save me. So what does that make you?” The content of what he was saying should have disturbed me, but for some reason I found his words to be mind-meltingly erotic.

I just barely managed to gasp out, “I don’t know. I guess I’m fucked up too…”

He grinned evilly, his burning coal eyes a scant inch from my own, “Maybe you are… Maybe you are… Tell me, Miss Granger, how did you feel after casting the Unforgivable Curse? Was your heart wracked with guilt? Did you catalog the thousands of other spells you could have cast at that moment instead? Did you spend days unable to drag yourself out of bed because of the depression weighing on your soul?” His voice was silky-smooth and sweet as honey, giving me chills.

I shook my head once, whispering, “No…” A darkness clouded Severus’s face as he absorbed the honesty and implications of that single syllable.

Both of his hands were on my arse now, squeezing far tighter than was really necessary to keep my slight weight suspended.

Then he began to slide his fingers beneath my knickers. His pinkies brushed against my throbbing, swollen center, drawing a gasp from me and an answering growl from deep within his chest.

“Did it feel good afterwards? Like you’d been cleansed? Baptized of all your sins?” he asked quietly with a note of something unidentifiable in his voice.

“Yes…” I whispered, gasping as he pushed his hips into me punishingly in response.

“Did it take days before you could touch yourself? Or did you do it that night, wondering what was wrong with you that you could be aroused after doing such a monstrous thing?”

“It was that night… It felt amazing. I was completely high. It was so opposite of what we’ve been taught about in Defense Against the Dark Arts… I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t immediately get crushed by guilt…”

“That’s because there IS something wrong with you… The same thing that’s wrong with me… You’re completely fucked in the head, little girl...”

 _I should NOT be as turned on by those words as I am!_ I thought frantically.

He lowered his lips to my throat, placing a single gentle kiss... before latching down in a full-on bite. I moaned as the the sharp pain seemed to shoot through my body like lightning and went straight to my clitoris.

He snarled...

humping me like an animal...

biting and sucking frantically at my neck and chest…

his fingers digging painfully into my arse…

“Stop! Severus! STOP!” I gasped out, and he immediately set me back on my feet, backing away a few steps and turning aside. I yanked my dress back down to cover my soaked knickers.

He refused to make eye contact with me, fixating instead on the packed dirt floor of the shed. “You can’t keep doing this shit to me!” I scolded, hands on my bony hips. “I’m sick of the constant back-and-forth with you! You either want me or you don’t! You either love me or you don’t!”

He finally looked at me then, eyes burning, as he hissed, “Of course I love you! And I want you desperately every fucking second of my waking life! I’m just trying to protect you! I don’t want to hurt you!”

I advanced on him, shoving a finger in his chest accusingly, “Why don’t you just let ME deal with that, huh?! I can make my own choices for MYSELF! Did you ever think that maybe I wouldn’t mind getting hurt?! You’re the one who just a minute ago said I’m as fucked up as you are!”

He shook his head, starting to protest, but his jaw fell open in shock when I suddenly reached my hand up the bottom my dress. I hooked my finger into the waistband of my panties, giving them just the slightest tug so that they fell to the ground around my red pumps. I stepped out of them, turning my back towards him to bend and pick them up. I felt a sudden draft as my dress rode way up, putting **everything** on display for him. My clitoris throbbed with need in response to his appreciative groan.

I turned back to him, fiercely locking my gaze to his own, as I tucked the silky black knickers into the pocket of his overcoat. “For later…” I whispered, somehow managing to not blush.

His arms were paralyzed- locked to his sides. He simply stared, wide-eyed and shellshocked.

Taking advantage of his apparent inability to respond, I dropped to my knees in front of him. I could see his chest rising and falling unevenly as he seemed to struggle for breath. As I unhooked his belt, I was struck by how much more intimidating he seemed from that vantage point. It took me back to being a terrified first-year again, cowering as he dramatically recounted every single way we could get ourselves killed in the potions classroom.

I nervously unbuttoned the front of his trousers with shaky hands, giggling in triumph when I finally managed to pull him free. “I’d forgotten how big it was…” I called up to Severus, and he looked down at me for the first time. His face was completely inscrutable.

I wrapped both my hands around his girth, moving them in tandem as I murmured, “So fucking huge… I don’t know if I can handle it…” I heard a sudden intake of breath, and I celebrated internally, _He likes it when I talk dirty! It’s like he says: I need to stop questioning myself. Just go for it…_

“I want this inside me so bad, Master Snape. I want it tearing my tight little pussy apart... Your monster ripping into me…” He let out a real moan then, and his hands were clenching the flared sleeves of his dress robes in a deathgrip.

“Do you want that? Do you want to fuck me til I scream and cry? Do you want to choke me with both hands as you slam into my cervix mercilessly? Do you want to treat me like a common street whore? Fill every last one of my holes with your seed? Claim me from behind like an animal?”

He finally reached for me.

He burrowed his fingers into my hair, taking a firm grip on the back of my head.

Instantly realizing what he wanted, I gently pulled back on his foreskin and wrapped my lips around the exposed head of his cock. I was fascinated by how soft it was as I ran my tongue around and around the velvety, mushroom-like tip.

“More… more…” he gasped, fingers tugging painfully on my hair.

Recalling the diagram of male anatomy from a medical textbook, I pushed my tongue firmly into his frenulum, massaging it in concert with my furiously pumping hands. He moaned loudly, hips thrusting and spasming randomly, independent of any thought on his part.

His eyes burned with cold fire as he looked down at me.

“More…” he commanded.

Steeling myself, I removed my left hand from his shaft. I cradled his testicles with it, gently rolling them around in my palm like marbles. I squeezed my eyes shut and thrust my entire head forward onto his cock.

My throat spasmed and seized, but I continued anyway, shoving myself forward and back across his enormous member as my body fought me. A thick, viscous saliva welled out of the back of my throat as I began to retch in earnest.

At the first sign of me pulling back, Severus’s hands locked- one around my throat and one in my hair.

He plunged himself violently down my throat, over and over and over again.

Tears ran down my face.

I squealed and screamed around his cock.

When I tried to pull back, he tightened his hand around my throat, cutting off my air supply until I stopped struggling.

My fingernails were digging into his thighs, instinctively pushing him away.

I noticed that he’d been speaking for a while- his voice was smoky and raw as he hissed, “Fucking slut. This is what you want, isn’t it? Being used and abused.”

I nodded frantically, though I’m not sure he realized what I was trying to do.

“I can do anything I want to you, can’t I? I bet you’d let me shove this dick in your ass right now, wouldn’t you?”

I nodded again, and he definitely realized what was happening this time. He yanked on my hair roughly as he pushed against my shoulder; I fell to my side on the dirt floor. His cock flew out of my mouth with an audible POP!.

He dropped to his knees in the dirt next to me, frantically beating off inches in front of my face. I opened my mouth obligingly, drawing an approving smirk from Severus.

He rolled me onto my back and straddled my narrow chest, holding himself up with his arms braced on the ground a few feet above my head.

I had never been in such a vulnerable position before… and I couldn’t believe how turned on it made me. He reached between us, positioning his cock in front of my mouth as he smirked down at me darkly.

I spread my lips and he immediately thrust himself deep inside me.

I choked and tried to pull back...

but there was nowhere to go...

no escape at all.

He fucked my face for barely more than a minute, though it felt like forever.

My fingers found their way between my legs, and I brought myself to a muscle-cramping, leg-spasming orgasm within seconds.

After I had come, I found it much easier to simply lie back and absorb all the abuse Severus was inflicting on me.

And then-  hot, sticky semen shooting down my throat.

My chest jumped, my throat convulsed...

He pulled out after that initial burst, opting to finish shooting his load humiliatingly across my face and hair.

He scrambled off of me immediately after finishing, vanishing his semen and hurriedly tucking his still half-erect cock back into his fine-woven trousers. Then he reached forward solicitously, helping me sit up, tucking me between his bent knees, and leaning me back against his chest. He peppered the back of my head, neck, and shoulders with dozens of kisses then whispered in my ear, “Are you okay, Hermione?”

I rolled my eyes despite the fact that he couldn’t even see them. “Of course I am,” I sighed resignedly. _Clearly he’s never going to stop doing_ **_that_** _._

“I didn’t hurt you?” he fretted.

“Of course you did,” I laughed darkly, “That’s what was so fun about it… I was masturbating while you were doing that, you know…”

The astonishment was apparent in his voice as he asked, “Seriously?! Did you come?”

I cracked up, “Oh my gods within like ten seconds!”

“You’re lying,” he accused warily.

“Why would I lie? You only have to touch me to know how into it I was…”

“May I?” he beseeched as his fingertips trailed lightly down my bare inner thigh.

“Please…” He slid his middle digit inside me- all the way up. I felt my vaginal walls contracting around him as he stroked leisurely circles around my G-spot.

“Mmm… your muscles are still nice and tight from your orgasm…”

His other hand had snuck up my skirt at some point as well. The first contact of his calloused fingertip with my tingling, engorged clitoris sent shockwaves throughout my entire body. I threw my head back against his chest as he played me like a piano. His dextrous, impossibly long fingers knew exactly what I wanted and where I wanted it.

“That’s my dirty little girl… Such a good little girl… Nothing makes you happier than pleasing your Master… That’s it… come for me...” he purred into my ear.

I completely lost all sense of myself- I was nothing but a singular knot of tension, begging to be released. I was a thoroughbred, kicking at the stall door. I was a sprouting seed, pushing inexorably through the concrete.

I possessed a sudden, overwhelming **need** to bear down. I pushed with every muscle in my abdomen, sinking my fingernails deep into Severus’s arms.

I let out a long, drawn-out scream as the expanse of dirt floor between our legs darkened, soaking with my fluids.

I slumped back against him, and he cradled me tenderly in his solid arms. “I love you, Hermione Granger…” he purred into my ratty mess of hair.

“I love YOU, Severus Snape,” I replied, taking one of his large hands in both of mine and placing a lingering kiss on his palm.

“So what happens now?” I murmured exhaustedly, rotating my body 90 degrees so that I could throw both my legs over his thigh and rest my head against his chest.

I felt the rumbling of his deep, impossibly sexy voice against my cheek, “Whatever you want to happen, Hermione. I’m done trying to stop this fucking runaway train. Clearly what’s happening here is far beyond my ability to control…”

“So are we… quote-unquote ‘together’ then?” I asked warily.

“I don’t know what label one could apply to this relationship,” he sighed, bone-deep exhaustion apparent in his voice. “But I don’t possess enough resolve to fight what’s happened to us. This is clearly something much bigger than I could’ve possibly anticipated...”

I broke in emphatically, “Bigger than **either** of us could’ve anticipated! This isn’t one-sided, Severus. You always have so much trouble remembering that!”

He shook his head irritably, “I know. I know. It’s just so fucking hard to break the mental patterns of a lifetime of unrequited love.”

“Well, you better get used to it. Cause I’m not going ANYWHERE.”

His eyes were childlike in their open neediness as he simply stared at me, apparently too uncertain to speak. “I’m not going anywhere,” I repeated firmly, reaching to cup his whiskered cheek in my small hand. “Ever. I want to spend the REST of my life with you. I don’t care if it’s only for the next hour because You-Know-Who comes to murder every single person at the wedding... Or for the entire next century… I will be by your side.”

His dark eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I wish I could believe you…” he finally managed to whisper.

“I know,” I soothed him, running my fingers through his hair. “One day you will… And if you don’t, I’ll just have to keep showing you every single day for the rest of our days.” He simply nodded and hid his face in my tangled nest of hair.

We held each other far longer than was entirely prudent. By the time I finally pulled myself unsteadily to my feet, I was certain my friends had noticed my absence. I knew they’d be worrying about me, but in my current state there was no way I could go back to the party. My legs and arms were smeared with dirt; my hair was a complete disaster- totally beyond hope of repair; Severus informed me with irritating smugness that my neck and chest were covered in bite marks and hickeys. My only hope was to sneak upstairs and pretend I had simply pulled an Irish Goodbye and gone to bed.

Our farewell kiss was bittersweet and heart-breakingly tender. He promised me I’d see him again soon, but he couldn’t give me any sort of time frame. He was unlatching the door for me to sneak out when he abruptly turned back around, “Thank you so much for the album, by the way. It’s fucking incredible. How did you know I wanted it?”

I looked at him incredulously, “Are you being serious right now? You talk about Radiohead like every three days. Always going on and on about numerology and steps and Merlin-Knows-What-Else…”

His brows creased in confusion. “Do I? Hmm... weird. I guess I don’t always notice where my rants go…”

I broke down in giggles, “That’s pretty obvious! One time you somehow went from talking about the mechanics behind a Dementor’s Kiss to arguing that plants definitely have their own souls to passionately asserting that Buddhism is the only muggle religion worth a damn!!!”

“Hmm… that **does** sound like me…” he teased, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully.

I grinned, giving him one last goodbye peck before setting off across the grass at a jog, barefoot with heels in hand. I peeked around the corner of the house. The front yard was blessedly empty. I crept through the front door and straight up the staircase with zero problems. I saw no light peeking under the door to Ginny’s room and let out a sigh of relief. I threw the door open in triumph and immediately let out a blood-curdling scream.

I stifled my outburst with my hands, but it was too late... I was busted. Ginny sat cross-legged on my bed with the hugest grin I had ever seen in my entire life plastered across her face. I turned on the lamp and shut the door hastily, casting Muffliato on it just in case.

“Ginny…” I started, but she cut me off immediately. “You slut! Look at the state of you!” she cackled gleefully. “I’ve never seen so many love-bites in all my life! And your knees are scratched and bruised and filthy! I’ve never been **prouder**!” She bounced off the bed, launching herself across the room to hug me and jump around singing, “Mione gave a blow job! Mione gave a blow job!”

“Ginny, shut the fuck up right now!” I hissed frantically, grabbing her by the upper arms to keep her still and stop the annoying bouncing. I tilted my ear towards the door, listening carefully for any sounds from the hall.

“Who is it?! I know it wasn’t that hot Delacour dude, cause I saw him leaving the reception alone like an hour after you disappeared!” I just shook my head emphatically.

“Eww… was it Fred or George? I noticed they wandered off really early in the night too!”

“Ginny, stop it! I can’t tell you anything. EVER. Ok?” I begged desperately.

“What is so awful that you think you need to hide it from me, Hermione? You know you can trust me with anything!”

“Please, Ginny! No one can ever know. No one would accept it!”

She gaped at me, whispering intently, “OH MY GODS IS IT LUNA???”

I looked at her incredulously, “What the fuck, Ginny? No! Even if I was into a girl, in what bizarro universe would LUNA LOVEGOOD be my type?!”

“Well the only other forbidden fruit besides another girl would be an older man in a position of authority, like a professor or Ministry official or something…” she speculated. My heart was pounding with sheer terror.

“But all our professors are old and ugly… WAIT! All except for **one**!” Her eyes shone triumphantly, “And he just happened to be sitting two tables down from us RIGHT BEFORE you disappeared! How very **_convenient_**!”

I broke into panicked tears, “Ginny! I begged you not to do this! Please!”

She pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back bracingly as she teased, “Do what? I don’t know what you’re talking about! I just came upstairs and saw that you had fallen asleep reading a book. You said you got bored with the party and thought Goblin Riots were a far more interesting subject matter. Honestly, Hermione! Sometimes you really let your imagination get away with you...”


	22. Fixing a Hole (Severus)

A quick pass of my wand removed the worst of the dirt and wrinkles from my clothing before I sauntered back into the party, pretending I was simply returning from one of my signature drunken strolls. “You’ve got some lipstick in your beard, Severus,” Minerva muttered to me as I slid into the chair next to her.

I scoffed, wiping irritably at my cheeks with the sleeves of my overcoat, “I wish. Strawberry tart leftovers, more like.”

She rolled her eyes at me and turned back around to continue her conversation with Nymphadora Tonks. “So how far along are you?!” the older witch asked excitedly.

“Just about five weeks. I feel like shite and do nothing but barf all day long. And I have to go on desk duty at work immediately! Being an auror is way too dangerous to do with a bun in the oven. But I can’t stand the idea of pushing paperwork all day for eight fucking months! I’ll go completely mad!”

Minerva took on a motherly tone, scolding, “Merlin’s beard, Nymphadora! At least your baby will be safe!”

Tonks sighed, “Yeah. I know. That’s why I sent an owl to Kingsley about it the second Remus and I found out. I just wish I could be doing something USEFUL, you know? I’m not going to be any good to the Order either...”

“You’ll come to Hogwarts,” I pronounced firmly, and both women spun around in their seats to gape at me.

“ _What_?!” Minerva and Tonks gasped in perfect unison.

“You’ll take the open teaching position. You’re an auror. If that doesn’t qualify you to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, I don’t know what does. You’ll have a safe place to stay. You’ll have a steady income. And I’ll be able to convince the Dark Lord to let me have a REAL teacher.”

The young witch’s face was trepidatious as she asked, “And why is that?”

“You and your baby will be collateral. To control Remus and, by extension, the Order at large. Your hair and a dose of Polyjuice is a ticket into the Auror office. Your very existence is an embarrassment for Narcissa and Bellatrix. You have all sorts of value to the Dark Lord, Miss Tonks.”

“You can’t possibly be considering this?!” Minerva demanded of her.

But Tonks just nodded, “Yeah, I AM considering it. And I think it sounds perfect! It’s better than exposing the kids to the Carrows… And Severus is right. You-Know-Who would enjoy having me close at hand to use if he wanted. Bringing me to her WOULD be an excellent gift for Bellatrix… She’s already tried and failed to kill me a half-dozen times by now! And if he needed someone to take for ransom, who better than a knocked-up member of the Order of the Phoenix?!”

Minerva spent the next hour trying desperately to convince Tonks to change her mind. But I brought in Flitwick and Sprout as backup, and their support tipped the scales in my favor. We made an appointment for the next morning at 11 AM at the Leaky Cauldron to sign her work contracts.

Lupin seemed strangely relieved that his wife would soon be locked away from him behind the gates. And he hadn’t been nearly as excited to spread the pregnancy news as Nymphadora had been. I found the whole thing rather bizarre. _If Hermione were pregnant, I’m fairly certain I would be physically incapable of letting her out my sight for even a minute._

 

Within two weeks, Professor Tonks fit in at Hogwarts as if she had always been there. She had thrown herself wholeheartedly into lesson planning- spending twelve or more hours a day in the Professors’ Lounge cracking away at it. She was working a bit from the notes Remus and I had given her from our own lessons, but it appeared that she wanted to go her own way on a number of subjects.

The other Professors loved her instantly- which earned me a few brownie points for hiring her. She brought a bubbly, lively energy that had been sorely lacking in the castle. Many of the professors had been going quite stir-crazy. Their one outing of the summer to Bill Weasley’s wedding had only whetted their appetites for the outside world. They were anxious for the students to return, if only to break the monotony. Assisting and advising the young, pregnant, first-time teacher was a great task for keeping morale up.

I privately congratulated myself for days, as even the Dark Lord himself had been pleased with my solution. His contacts at the Governor’s Board had told him in no uncertain terms that the vast majority of parents would pull their children out of Hogwarts if a rumored Death Eater were to be installed. Seeing as a school stocked with nothing but Slytherins would be of little value for ransom and/or blackmail, He finally relented to me.

I practically whistled as I jogged up staircase after staircase to my tower after dinner. _I cannot fucking_ **_believe_ ** _I managed to pull it off! I didn’t think I was ever going to find someone! I had to have begged an entire score of people! And I convinced Him without getting Crucio’d even once!_

I was almost uncomfortable with how optimistic I was feeling as I flopped into the cushy throne-like chair behind my desk. I absently hummed “On the Turning Away” as I stretched and dug my thumbs into my sore trapezius muscle. Apparently having made an unconscious decision, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out my muggle stationary.

 

 

> My Darling Hermione,
> 
> I hope you receive this letter in a timely fashion. I sent one only just yesterday, so you probably won’t even bother to check your box for a few more days. I’ll be sending a more _official_ version of this request by owl on Friday, so you should hear from me one way or another…
> 
> Anyhow, as I’m sure you’ve realized, this coming Saturday will mark exactly two months since Dumbledore awakened from the Living Death. I think we should take a couple of days to observe him. Test his temperament. Ascertain the limits of his memory. Determine if we should continue treatment or take a different course. With the new term beginning in two weeks, this may be the last chance we have to speak with him for a long while.
> 
> If I’m to be honest, however, I actually just want to spend a few days with you. You’re my last thought before I fall asleep at night, and my first upon waking. This summer has passed by so excruciatingly slowly. I can hardly believe that soon I’ll be able to feast my eyes upon you every single day... But from a distance of course, which is, in many ways, more painful than not seeing you at all.
> 
> That reminds me… I don’t think I’ve actually congratulated you yet for being named Head Girl.
> 
> **CONGRATS!**
> 
> I promise that I was in no way responsible. My appropriately Slytherin vote was for Pansy Parkinson, of course. But the professors voted for you in an overwhelming landslide. I’m sure you will serve adequately in the position, though I think we can both agree that Pansy was the stronger candidate. Despite your inadequacies, I am certain you will follow in the footsteps of such illustrious former Head Students as Lucius Malfoy and Percy Weasley.
> 
> Love always,
> 
> Severus


	23. Strict Machine (Hermione)

The four days between receiving Severus’s letter and meeting him at Grimmauld Place were the longest of my entire life. Ginny had been about to burst with excitement when I told her that I’d be spending some time with him. She had been pumping me for information for weeks, but I steadfastly refused to either confirm or deny that she had correctly guessed the identity of my ‘mystery man’. I was the worst liar known to wizardkind, so I didn’t even bother to argue with her. When she’d start in with the questions, I’d just smile benignly into the middle distance and think about study timetables for my NEWTS.

I had wept and danced with glee when my Head Girl badge came, though it was hardly a surprise to anyone else in the Burrow. I was mostly just psyched about the private quarters and bath that the position afforded me. I had been obsessing all summer about the logistics of sneaking into Severus’s bedroom past the dozens of former Headmaster portraits that encircled his office. Having my own room on the second floor of the castle (conveniently out of the line of sight of any nearby portraits) would make carrying on our illicit affair far easier. _Not to mention all those late night patrols around the castle we’re going to be taking…_

I was literally vibrating with anxiety when I apparated onto the top step of Grimmauld Place at 10:15 AM. Ginny had stubbornly insisted on doing my hair and makeup before I left, so I was running super late. I was self-conscious that the berry-pink lipstick she had painted on me was a bit much with the gauzy yellow sundress and strappy sandals she had forced me to borrow. The fabric of the dress was so light and translucent that I couldn’t even wear a bra with it. My usual boyshorts caused some serious VPL beneath the clingy skirt, so I was forced to wear my one and only thong.

Severus was waiting directly inside the doorway when I opened it. He swept me into his arms, shutting the door quietly behind me. He held me for a very long time, pressing dozens of little kisses all over my hair. Eventually, he let me go, holding me at arm's length to look me up and down. I blushed shyly when he gave an approving whistle. “You look even better than you did at the wedding, Hermione, and you were an absolute **vision** then…”

I laughed awkwardly, remarking, “I doubt that. That cocktail dress had some serious structure built into it. It shoved my boobs way up and the cut of the skirt made me look like I had actual hips. This material just clings to my ribs and hipbones… You honestly don’t think it’s, like, super unflattering?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes exasperatedly, grabbing me by the left wrist. He placed my hand, quite unceremoniously, onto the bulging front of his trousers. I gasped in amazement; his cock was already rock-hard and absolutely GIGANTIC. “Does that answer your question?” he teased, eyes glittering with a mixture of amusement and predatory hunger. I gulped audibly, nodding in response, quite unable to remove the hand that was gently gripping him.

All of a sudden, he took a large step forward, and I retreated instinctively, my back pressed against the front door. He placed his large hands on either side of my head and towered over me.

He watched my flat chest rising and falling erratically as I struggled to breathe. A single finger dragged teasingly down my clavicle, slowly tracing my scar… **so** slowly, to brush ever-so-gently across the erect nipple that peeked through the diaphanous fabric of my sundress.

I was strung as tight as a bowstring; my lips parted in a soundless exhalation of tension.

Severus smirked down at me, purring, “There. Now you feel just a tiny fraction of the frustration I am enduring after seeing you dressed like that, you naughty little minx.”

I managed a breathy, insincere laugh and joked, “Me?! A minx? That’s certainly not something I ever thought I’d hear! Nag, sure. Shrew, sure. Crone... eventually. But never minx!”

He looked at me seriously, completely ignoring my half-hearted attempt at lightening the mood. “You ARE a minx, Miss Granger,” he scolded me, catching me off guard with his commanding professor voice. “Don’t be daft. Look at yourself right now!” he indicated my reflection in the entryway mirror. I glanced over, immediately noticing how my chest and ears had gone beet-red. I frowned at myself, caterpillar brows wrinkling in dismay. _Gross. I look like a little girl who’s gotten into her mum’s makeup bag._

He sighed in exasperation when my response wasn’t at all what he had wanted. “Come on, crazy girl,” he grunted, not unkindly. Severus took me by the hand and led me upstairs to Sirius’s bedroom. He paused outside the door, placing a lingering kiss on my forehead. “After you, m’lady…” he joked drily as he opened the door with exaggerated gentlemanliness.

“Hermione, my dear!” the old man greeted me heartily. He pulled his half-moon spectacles to the tip of his crooked nose, looking up from his book to peer across the room at us. “So wonderful to see you again! I must say, in comparison to your nursing skills, I find the rest of the Order to be rather lacking,” he chortled as his eyes twinkled merrily.

“You remember that I’ve been taking care of you?! When I left, you could only recognize me for the first day after taking your potion!” I exclaimed as I strode to his bedside.

“Oh, yes. The last month or so has come back to me in bits and pieces. I seem to recall attacking the two of you… If that wasn’t simply a dream, I offer my sincerest apologies. I rather regret it, though I cannot recall what drove me to assault you in the first place.”

Severus let out a bark of a laugh from a few centimeters behind me, startling me, “That might be because we refused to murder you as you had commanded. We chopped off your arm instead, and then we faked your death to the entire wizarding community.”

“So many ‘we’s...” the former Headmaster mused, looking back and forth between Severus’s face and mine, carefully scrutinizing us with his piercing blue eyes. I tried desperately to look innocent. He continued to speak after a loaded moment of silence, “I do recall that, as a matter of fact. Rather clearly.” I gulped nervously.

“I congratulate you both for finding a solution that I, in my admittedly-finite wisdom, had not foreseen. It is a great feat to invent even just one potion of such exceeding magical power. But to create **four**? Remarkable. **Truly** remarkable…” he trailed off as he stared at us appraisingly. We remained perfectly silent.

“Surely, none but the pair of you could have seen such a thing through to the end… I must congratulate myself for anticipating the… _chemistry_ the two of your would have- academically speaking that is.” His eyes glittered with amusement. “I knew you both just needed someone to push you to the limits of your abilities... and even further still… beyond the boundaries of what can be achieved by magic alone. I never could have anticipated that you would turn your inimitable combined genius to solving my conundrum with that cursed ring. But I cannot honestly say that I am disappointed to be alive today.”

I spoke up, cringing when my voice cracked, “It seems that your long-term memory has improved exponentially from when I left you three weeks ago, Professor Dumbledore. I’m quite pleased.” My pulse fluttered in my throat as I tried to change the subject; I was quite certain he suspected a relationship between myself and Severus.

Severus jumped in, sounding impressively disconnected and scholarly, “Indeed. We have a number of cognitive function tests, psychological questionnaires, and the like, that we’ll be performing over the next three days. I trust you have regained enough stamina to participate in our research?”

“Oh, yes. The monotony of being stuck in this bedroom is going to be the death of me,” Dumbledore nodded emphatically. “I could answer your questions all day long.”

“Very well. You’re due for another dose of your recovery potion right about now. We’ll proceed with our observations once you’ve awakened. I’m quite curious to see how much more cogent you’ll be when you have returned from of your trip,” Severus announced smoothly.

The old man’s wrinkled face broke into a large grin, “I’ve never had a medicine I actually looked forward to taking in my entire life until now. You’re a true wizard among wizards, Severus.”

My love lowered his head humbly as he carefully measured a dose of potion into a goblet. We bid the old man cheers as he tipped the contents of the goblet down his throat. He smacked his lips at the pleasant flavor and beamed across the room at us as we took our leave, winking knowingly, “I’m sure you’ll make productive use of the next six hours, my children…” He chuckled mischievously until his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he slumped into the pillows, quite insensate.


	24. Something (Severus)

“Do you think he knows???” Hermione hissed to me as we quietly descended the staircase to the basement library.

“It certainly **appears** to be so...” I considered.

“But he doesn’t seem angry… Though I can’t imagine why not!”

“I’ve long since stopped trying to understand the way Albus Dumbledore’s mind works. For all I know, he arranged your apprenticeship for just this eventuality,” I mused, scratching irritably at my beard as I opened the library door for her.

Hermione sprawled on the small antique couch and wondered, “But why would he do that? It breaks like a million Hogwarts rules.”

“That’s just how he is. I guess what I mean to say is- no one believes in ‘the power of love’ more than Albus. It’s very possible that he suspected my dedication to Lily’s memory was beginning to wane in the face of everything that was being asked of me... He could have inferred that I needed something more to fight for… something to give me hope for the future,” I trailed off as I leaned against the red brick surrounding the fireplace.

“And he was right?” she asked, eyes beseeching as she looked across the coffee table at me.

“Of course he was right, daft girl!” I scoffed. “How many times have I told you that I’m only alive today thanks to you?”

“A bunch of times...” she admitted, blushing slightly.

“Wait, do you think he’s watching us right now?!” she suddenly whispered, looking around with a paranoid expression, “Like, his disembodied soul is floating around the house… And he decided to come down here to spy on us?!”

I burst into laughter so intense it brought tears to my eyes. When I had finally quieted enough to speak, I choked out, “I sincerely doubt that, Hermione. This isn’t exactly his cup of tea, so to speak…”

She looked at me quizzically, “What on earth are you going on about?”

“You haven’t noticed? You haven’t gotten the **vibe**?” I asked incredulously.

“What vibe? What the fuck, Severus?” She looked quite annoyed now, and I couldn’t help but crack up again at her expression.

“Nothing! Nothing. Maybe you’ll find out in the future. It doesn’t matter,” I deflected. “Now, I believe the Headmaster commanded us to make good use of the next six hours… and I intend to do exactly that.”

“Well, we’re not going to get much done with you way over there,” she teased, patting the couch beside her invitingly.

“Oh, no, Miss Granger…” I whispered, my voice suddenly plying. “I won’t be involved in this at all.” Her eyes held a mixture of confusion and trepidation as she frowned over at me.

I flicked my wand, and a large mirror materialized on the coffee table directly in front of her. “What the heck is this?” she exclaimed, leaning around the mirror to glare at me.

“Look at yourself, Miss Granger,” I purred as I lowered myself into the armchair with the best view.

She frowned at the mirror, forehead wrinkled in irritation, “What am I supposed to be looking at, exactly?”

“You. The glory that is yourself.”

She turned her head, scowling at me. I flicked my wand, and she gave a little yelp of pain as my spell stung her gently on the inner thigh. “You MAY NOT look at me,” I commanded sternly, “You will only look at yourself, Miss Granger. Any time you look away, you will be punished. Do you understand?”

I expected her to protest, but she simply nodded. I found myself enormously aroused by her easy submission, and shifted my cock uncomfortably in my trousers. “Now, I want you to lower the straps of your dress, Miss Granger. Slowly.”

She stared intently into her own eyes as she tugged the thin, ribbon-like straps down her shoulders and pulled her arms through. The feather-light fabric of the dress fell to her waist, exposing her gorgeous little tits to us. “What do you see?” I whispered.

She shook her head miserably, “I see my chest. Nothing worthy of note…”

I flicked my wand, and she let out a tiny squeak as my jinx zapped her on the arse, “No, no, Miss Granger. I won’t hear any of that nonsense,” I scolded.

“Fine. Fine. I see my breasts,” she groused. “And…?” I said leadingly.

“And… they’re fine, I guess. Small enough that I can go without a bra whenever I want. And I suppose my nipples are quite nice. Perfectly pink- not brown at all. Not too big… Is that enough?” she begged, looking over at me pleadingly.

I smirked at her, flicking my wand to give her another shock, this time on her right asscheek. Her eyes immediately flew back the mirror before I could verbally reprimand her. “There’s my good girl. But we’re only just getting started. What else do you see?”

She looked like she felt completely wretched as she mumbled, “I guess my hair is pretty okay. It’s unique at least… And I suppose I have decent enough bone structure in my face. Although I feel like my face is too delicate for my eyebrows… AAHHHH!!!”

“Tsk, tsk, Miss Granger. You’re really not getting the hang of this lesson, are you?” I teased as I lowered my wand.

She glared venomously at herself as she hissed, “FINE THEN. My eyebrows are beautiful. My face is beautiful. My boobs are perfect. Happy now?!”

I smiled broadly as I praised her, “Very good! That’s what I was looking for! Now stand up and remove your dress.”

She climbed nervously to her feet, and the little dress fell to the ground with no further help from her. She looked at herself in the mirror for a long time in absolute silence, face inscrutable. I noticed that she was wearing her tiniest pair of black thong underwear. My cock was positively raging at me by now, demanding to be released.

“What do you see?” I murmured.

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, “I don’t know. A girl. A scrawny, weak little girl.”

“No, Miss Granger. You are a woman. A sexy, beautiful, exceedingly dangerous woman.” She gave a little smirk at that.

Encouraged by this response, I continued, “You are a vengeful goddess of war. Your physical body has nothing to do with your power... Your authority… Your ability. Your small stature belies your might, Miss Granger.” She was **definitely** standing straighter now.

“You don’t need anyone to defend you. You can take care of yourself. People need YOU... Not the other way around. You saved your parents. You saved me. You’ve saved Harry Potter a half-dozen times or more. You’re the hero of your story, Hermione. You’re only lying to yourself if you believe otherwise.”

She smiled at herself now, eyes glowing with pride at my words. “Now touch your tits…” I whispered, and she immediately complied. She watched herself pinch and pull on her nipples with rapt attention. “How do they feel?” I gasped, unable to keep from squeezing my cock through the fabric of my pants.

“Amazing…” she breathed, vibrant berry lips pouting as she gasped for air. “So soft…”

“Sit down and spread your legs!” I demanded, and she immediately complied. “Pull your underwear to the side. What do you see?”

She blushed alluringly as she described herself, “My… my vulva. No, my pussy. It looks swollen… And really red. I’m extremely aroused.” She spread her labia further, examining herself curiously.

“Have you never looked at your cunt before, little girl?” I asked quietly.

“No… I was too shy,” she admitted shamefully.

“Look closer…” I gasped, finally breaking down and unbuttoning my fly. I pulled out my cock and began to stroke it as I purred, “That’s it… Closer… Put a finger inside… Good girl…”

She was now completely absorbed in herself, watching with rapt attention as she shoved first one finger into her tight little hole… then another…

She let out a little gasp, reaching to pinch her nipples with her free hand. “Tell me what you see… What you’re doing…” I groaned desperately.

“I see me fucking myself...” she began, characteristically matter-of-fact. “My fingers are in my pussy... My tight, wet, pussy… I’m fondling my own tits. My perky, perfectly tiny tits. And now I’m rubbing my clit… I’m so turned on from watching myself. How is that even possible?!!” she asked desperately.

“Because you’re insanely sexy. You would turn anyone on,” I asserted.

“Yes… yes. That’s right. And now I’m thinking about you,” she murmured as I continued to beat off, eyes laser-focused on her like a raptor on the hunt. “I’m thinking about you finding me on our late-night patrols around Hogwarts. You follow me into a hidden nook behind a portrait. Before I can even make a move, you shove me face-first into the wall. You yank up the bottom of my school robes, spanking me over and over again as I scream and cry.”

“When you finally let up, I start thanking you. But then I feel you pull down my panties and your dick shoves into my raw, red ass. You violate my tight hole over and over as I beg you to stop. I can’t tell what hurts worse… my face scraping against the stone wall or the muscles in my sphincter seizing as you violently invade my most private area… Then you come inside me… I can feel the hot seed spilling out of me as you pull out to finish all over my thighs and ass…”

I let out a deep, animalistic growl as I exploded everywhere; I quickly vanished my semen from the nearly meter-long expanse of coffee table it had splattered. With a small amount still coating my fingers, I approached Hermione. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her hands a blur as she stroked herself. I touched my index finger to her pouting lips; she didn’t startle as I had expected. Instead, she opened her chestnut eyes, positively glaring into my own as she ran her tongue up and down each of my five fingers and finished by sucking each of them completely clean. “That’s my perfect little slut…” I whispered with perverse affection, and this seemed to be what pushed her over the edge.

Her orgasm came with terrifying intensity. She stared fiercely into her own eyes through the entire thing, not even blinking once. Her legs kicked and spasmed; her hands were invisible to the naked eye. She let out a drawn out, breathy, “Fffffuuuuuccckkkk…” as her orgasm just went on and on for what felt like five minutes. I was strangely relieved when she slumped back into the couch- like I’d been afraid she was on the verge of a heart attack or something.

I vanished the mirror immediately, sliding next to her on the couch. “How do you feel?” I inquired curiously.

Her eyelids were heavy as she dragged them open to look at me. “How do you think?” she joked.

“I think we’re going to need a few more of these therapy sessions…” I teased as I pulled her to my chest.

She nuzzled me affectionately, burying her nose in the front of my robes and inhaling deeply, “I guess so. I never knew I was such an exhibitionist.”

“Oh, you’re a **lot** of things, Hermione,” I chuckled darkly. “You do realize that you were just fantasizing about me physically assaulting then anally raping you?”

“It’s not assault or rape if I want you to do it!” she snapped, taking me off guard with her sudden vehemence. “Obviously those are things I want you to do to me, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking about them!”

I shook my head seriously, “Not necessarily. There are a lot of things I like fantasizing about that I would never inflict on someone I cared about…”

“Why not?!” she demanded. “If your partner is willing… why wouldn’t you want to explore your desires? Your fantasies?”

“Because… it’s wrong. It just is.”

“Who says it’s wrong?! If it feels good… And no one gets hurt more than they’re comfortable with… Who’s to say what’s wrong?”

“The entire world says it’s wrong, Hermione! It’s bad enough what I’m doing to you now… If I was acting out torture and rape fantasies on you?! I can’t even imagine what people would think about me…” I trailed off, quite uncertain whether I was more angry or depressed.

She just shook her head at me in frustration, obviously knowing me well enough to realize that nothing could change my mind once I had it set. Eventually, we managed to make our way to the bedroom, where we spent the next five hours in the nude, alternating between smoking weed, fooling around, cat-napping, and having intense philosophical discussions about the nature of the human mind. By the time we were certain Dumbledore had returned from his trip, I was so spent I could have gone straight to bed for the night.

We spent that first evening performing a number of cognitive function and IQ tests on him. Without any baseline data to compare to, our results were somewhat nebulous. However, we were reasonably confident that he had regained at least 90% of his mental faculties. His logical processes scored far above average; he had zero problems with any of the logic puzzles we threw at him, solving each of them in a matter of seconds. His spacial reasoning wasn’t quite as impressive, but still in the ninety-fifth percentile of the general population. Both his fluid intelligence and his quantitative reasoning were practically off the charts.

His long-term storage and retrieval of information was rather more lacking, however. He still couldn’t recall any memories older than 30 years or so. The events of the past year were also extremely vague for him, but I suspected that had more to do with the ring’s curse affecting him. He eventually admitted that the curse had most likely damaged his ability to make reasoned choices. He was suffused with guilt in retrospect for having made such ludicrous demands of me.

He ended up performing less admirably on his inductive reasoning and metacognition tests. It appeared that lacking the vast majority of his life experiences damaged his ability to reason through the various ways that scenarios may turn out. His predictions were startlingly bizarre and completely off-base. Similarly, he struggled with any type of higher-order thinking skills. He couldn’t give any sort of accurate time frame for how long it would take to perform a given task. He seriously overestimated his knowledge of a number of subjects; he would become irritable when he repeatedly failed to answer questions that he was quite certain he knew.

Satisfied with the results of our first day, Hermione and I took our leave to have dinner. She took Dumbledore a tray with his portion as I cleaned up the kitchen. We were so exhausted that we pretty much passed out the second we curled up together in our little bedroom.

When Hermione rose bright and early the next morning, I secretly followed her up the staircase. She was showering when I snuck into the main-floor bathroom. A wave of my wand, and a full length mirror appeared beside the tub at the same moment that the shower curtain flew back. She squealed, covering her chest with one hand as the other fumbled across the sink for her wand. When she realized it was only me, she glared and dropped her wand back to the countertop.

“What the heck, Severus?!” she scolded, putting her hands on her slight hips.

I smirked at her, leaning casually against the closed door. “I just thought you needed further reinforcement of yesterday’s lesson, Miss Granger.”

She gave me an impressive scowl, “How do you not realize that this is completely pointless?”

I ignored her words, simply flicking my wand towards the mirror pointedly. She rolled her eyes and stepped back into the shower stream. She watched the droplets of water rolling down her body with some interest. As she massaged a truly mind-blowing volume of conditioner into her damp locks, I couldn’t help but admire the lean muscles stretching and flexing in her arms and abdomen. Her eyes appeared focused on the same areas.

With her arms stretched over her head, even more of her ribcage showed than usual. Her soft stomach was perfectly smooth and concave, right down to her razor-sharp hipbones. She ran her slippery hands down her torso, watching with rapt attention as the conditioner made her milky-white skin reflect the light. She went on to rub it all over herself, completely captivated with the mirror. As she seemed to have forgotten my presence, I tugged my sleep pants down my hips and pulled out my cock. I braced my body in the corner of the little bathroom as I stroked myself luxuriously.

I was disappointed when she rinsed herself off, but my heart pounded with renewed excitement when she bent over to pick up the bottle of body wash. I had a perfect split-second view of her cunt and arse, causing my balls to tighten desperately. I took several deep breaths as she lathered herself up with a washcloth. The cloth dragged across her skin so alluringly that it took all my willpower not to take it from her and complete the job myself.

Her plump bottom lip hung upon as she stared at the mirror. She never once looked away, hardly blinking. I nearly cried when she turned around and looked over her shoulder. She carefully soaped up her lean, perfectly sculpted back, then proceeded lower. As she moved down her legs, she continued to watch over her shoulder as she bent completely double.

Then I nearly came instantaneously when she shifted her feet, spreading her thighs further apart, exposing her perfect little pink cunt and asshole to herself. She dropped the cloth, reaching between her legs to spread her inner labia. I couldn’t hold back the moan that welled out of my throat, and she startled, looking over at me. However, she didn’t move even a single muscle, simply watched me beating off with rapt interest.

“Come closer…” she whispered, and I complied immediately. I stood beside the mirror as she plunged her middle finger deep inside herself. Her eyes flicked back and forth between me and the image of her fucking herself.

“I’m going to come…” I gasped, and she immediately rotated her hips toward mine. I spent my load right in the center of her bum, and I couldn’t help but use the head of my cock to smear it up and down her crack. She watched my actions in the mirror, and her pupils were so dilated with arousal that her brown eyes were nearly as black as mine.

I backed away as she reached around her hip with her free hand. She slipped a second finger into her pussy as she continued to rub my seed all over herself. Her pinkie finger, slippery with my fluids, slipped easily into her asshole. I was in complete denial about what was even happening as she moaned and grunted, fucking herself with ever-increasing urgency in both of her openings. She nearly collapsed when she finally came, and I rushed forward to catch her in my arms.

I lowered her to the floor of the bath as her legs trembled and shook. I proceeded to rinse her off by hand as she sprawled out, dazed and inert. I shut off the shower and cradled her soaking-wet body in my arms as I lifted her out of the bathtub. I set her unsteadily on her feet and dried her with a silent wave of my hand, spending a significant chunk of time just trying to get her hair to not be weighed down by five liters of water.

I vanished the mirror and settled her on the lip of the tub. Seeing as how I was now completely soaked, I just stripped and showered really quickly while she came back to her senses. She was finally steady enough by the time I was finished to get dressed and proceed back downstairs for coffee and breakfast.

We spent the next three days following a similar pattern: I would begin and end each day by making Hermione watch as she touched herself. She would occasionally describe her fantasies to me as she masturbated, and I never ceased to be amazed by how fucked-up they all were. She had a submissive streak a mile wide, and a certain penchant for violence and degradation that really surprised me. I often wondered absently whether casting the Unforgivable Curse had caused some kind of damage to her mind, but then reminded myself that she’d admitted last spring to having entertained detention and punishment fantasies about me for years.

By day, we were dedicated academics once again, collecting truly massive amounts of data about Dumbledore. He was an ideal case study- highly agreeable to questioning, introspective, open. He did lack for stamina, however. He was always yawning and stretching, ready to go to sleep rather early in the evening.

He didn’t make any more comments about myself and Hermione being anything more than research partners, but I caught him watching us a couple times, twinkling merrily as we bent our heads together over our notes.

During our final evening at Grimmauld Place, we decided to have a more free-form discussion with Dumbledore in an attempt to discover exactly what had gone on during the months he spent under the influence of the Living Death.

“It’s completely ineffable…” Albus was musing. “There was no sense of time passing whatsoever. If anything, it’s as if I were existing in every single moment all at once…”

“Interesting. What makes you say that?” Hermione inquired.

“Well, if I concentrated, I could see many flashes of my past, which I think is to be expected. However, I saw far more random events, places, people… Some I knew. Some I didn’t. I watched muggles stuck in traffic at the same time I watched a group of wizarding children playing Quidditch on toy broomsticks. It all made sense at the moment… I was able to navigate easily, and it felt quite natural, but I couldn’t tell you how I did it. If I focused very closely, I could see my body lying in this bed, but it wasn’t easy by any means. It was just as easy to watch a Tyrannosaurus Rex hunting for his breakfast or the coronation of Queen Elizabeth.”

“But how is that possible? I wouldn’t think you would be capable of seeing things that never even **happened** to you…” Hermione mused.

I spoke up, “This is my theory: A mind needs a physical body to have a sense of time, yes? Let us just go ahead and assume the veracity of the popular theory that time as we know it is completely illusory- simply the byproduct of being trapped in a body. Without a physical being tying you to a linear timeline of aging until death, your consciousness is free to experience the universe as it truly exists.”

Hermione laughed, “Well, this is definitely the closest I’ve ever come to entertaining your crackpot theories about time, Master Snape!”

I ignored her teasing, continuing as if I hadn’t been interrupted, “We know the soul has certain corporeal elements. Otherwise, a Dementor would have nothing to suck out of your mouth when it ‘kisses’ you. However, I would equate it more closely to a gas- rather than a solid. Horcruxes can supposedly be made indefinitely, due to the soul’s ability to ‘expand to fill the container’, so to speak, rather like a gas. To make a crude metaphor, you can halve the volume of air in a room with little noticeable difference. However, once you’ve done it a few times, you start gasping for breath. A couple more times and you suffocate. Similarly, a person can manage a number of instances of cleaving their soul with few negative side effects. However, once you breach a certain threshold, the person begins to lose many of their memories, the capacity for empathy, and the ability to think abstractly about problems. I assume that eventually one would reach the point of no return, being hardly more functional than someone who has been the victim of a dementor’s kiss.”

“And that’s right about where I was when I woke up from the Living Death…” Dumbledore agreed, nodding his head darkly.

“Correct. The second dose of the Triad Potion was able to return just enough of your spirit to your body to ‘anchor’ you to it. My recovery potion- let’s call it the Roundtrip Potion- allowed that piece of soul to journey out into the ether and attract more bits of itself. It seems to me that your body had trouble trapping that life energy inside, so it would gradually leak back out. It was only with repeated doses of Roundtrip that your ‘anchor’ gradually grew stronger and stronger, allowing you to hold progressively more of ‘you’ inside each time. Though unfortunately, I don’t believe the evidence we’ve collected these past four days indicates that you’re anywhere close to completely recovered.”

“Agreed. Questions of spirit aside, my muscles are so wasted from disuse that I’m still struggling to walk more than a few dozen steps at a stretch. I **wish** we only had the mental obstacles to contend with…” Albus lamented.

“Indeed,” I nodded once in agreement.

“So we’ll reevaluate in another month or so of treatment then?” Hermione chimed in, looking back and forth between the two of us.

" **I** will reevaluate in a month,” I pronounced crisply. “ **You** will be safely locked behind the Hogwarts gates.”

“That’s bullshit, Severus!” she snapped, then covered her mouth, wide eyes glancing over at Dumbledore in a barely-concealed panic.

_Fucking idiot girl! We’ve successfully managed to maintain a detached, professional air for four fucking days! And she has to go and ruin all of it at the last second by cursing at me and using my first name?!_

“Miss Granger…” I hissed venomously, vein twitching furiously in my temple. “What exactly has given you the impression that you may speak to me in that manner?!”

Before she could defend herself, Albus spoke in a light-hearted tone, “Now, now, Severus. I sincerely doubt that’s the worst thing you’ve heard out of her mouth before today.” I peered into his azure eyes with my face carefully blank. “I mean, honestly Severus, the woman has had to put up with you day and night for nearly a year now. You clearly have very low expectations of my intelligence if I’m expected to believe she has only ever addressed you in a polite, calm manner before today. I HAVE met you, you know...” He and Hermione laughed heartily as I simply scowled at the pair of them _._

 _How the fuck did_ **_this_ ** _become my life?_


	25. How Long Must I Wait? (Hermione)

Severus ended up deeming the Hogwarts Express a security threat, and opted instead to fetch Harry, Ron, Ginny, and myself a few hours early by side-along apparition on September 1st. Harry’s safety was his ostensible reason for this extraordinarily unprecedented breach of school tradition, but I knew it was really just for me. It obviously wouldn’t look proper for him to be taking only myself, so the others were brought along as buffers. Once we had arrived and were safely locked behind the gates, he filled us in on the rest of his plan.

Our main objective was to keep Harry as visible as humanly possible for the foreseeable future. There would be no more skulking around the castle and hiding away from the rest of the students. Any time we spent alone was a chance for someone to curse him, kidnap him, or worse. We were to spend all our free time in the library, Great Hall, quidditch pitch, Gryffindor common room, or the Room of Requirement (with a fastidiously specific security system put in place). He didn’t even want us going to Hagrid’s hut, but we finally wore Severus down with promises of never going with fewer than three of us and only during the daylight. Additionally, Harry was to wear his Invisibility Cloak any time he had to move through the castle alone- even to the bathroom.

Then Ginny suggested that Harry could write a weekly column for Xenophilius Lovegood’s magazine, The Quibbler. His face fell at this suggestion, but I quickly stepped in, offering to ghostwrite it for him. Everyone agreed this was an ideal solution.

“Very good. Very, very good…” Severus muttered as we approached the castle doors. My friends appeared to be struck dumb by his uncharacteristic praise. “The Dark Lord will want to turn the wizarding community against you, Potter. He’ll use the press to undermine you, attack you, make you look like a joke. It’s your job to appear as likeable and approachable as humanly possible. You want people to immediately disregard the articles that will come out, calling you a delusional child just looking for attention, a dangerous psychopath, even a grifter…”

“Yeah, I’ve dealt with that a few times already,” Harry grumbled.

Severus snapped, “Not like this you haven’t, boy! Those articles will look like child’s play compared to what’s coming. This war is going to be waged on the battlefield of public opinion just as surely as it will be fought with wands. Governments aren’t overthrown overnight. You don’t just replace the Minister and suddenly thousands of government employees turn into complete fascists who are perfectly happy distributing obvious racist propaganda and jailing muggle-borns. It’s a subtle, gradual process. You build fear, discontent, xenophobia… You attack the other side’s heroes. If you can manage to topple their idols, it’s much easier to break their spirits.”

“He’s right, you know, Harry…” I spoke up. “If you look at the rise of Hitler or Mussolini... It’s not like they executed an overnight coup. They built on the feelings of discontent simmering beneath the surface of their societies. People who are disillusioned, who have nothing to believe in, are easy to manipulate.” I looked at Severus meaningfully after my last statement.

He nodded in agreement, “Precisely. This unfortunate quirk of psychology is responsible for at least 80% of the Death Eater ranks. Despite what you have been led to believe, most of us aren’t bloodthirsty maniacs. The vast majority joined straight out of Hogwarts, all desperately searching for something: some greater purpose, a sense of power, a sense of belonging… The Dark Lord is very good at evaluating and judging people- their limits as well as their strengths. You four have only interacted with a small number of Death Eaters, because there is only a small percentage of those in our ranks who are craven enough to feel comfortable attacking children. I have many dozens of brothers and sisters who have never raised a wand in violence. Even the Dark Lord requires bureaucrats, potioneers, curse-breakers, magical creature wranglers, object charmers, healers, even writers and artists…”

Harry and the Weasleys were staring at him, wide-eyed, jaws hanging open in shock. I had never contemplated or realized how much more informed I had become about the inner workings of You-Know-Who’s forces than my friends.

After a few moments, Harry seemed to find his voice, “Why are you telling us all this?”

“Because you need to know. You all do. Secrecy only helps the Dark Lord- it has no benefit to us.”

“And you’re sure that keeping me in the public eye is for the best? I shouldn’t go on the run?”

“Absolutely. If you just disappear, there won’t be anyone around with enough clout to defend you- to repair your image. The Dark Lord can’t murder a beloved celebrity in plain view of the entire wizarding community. **His** only hope is to turn everyone against you, and **your** only hope is to get out ahead of it and become so likeable that he has no chance,” Severus asserted in his best ‘authoritative professor’ voice.

“Ok, if that’s what you think is best,” Harry nodded confidently.

We began to levitate our trunks up the main staircase as Severus took his leave of us. When he was out of earshot, Ron hissed, “Bloody hell, mate! I’ve never seen you and Snape getting along like that before! You’re just going to do exactly what he tells you?!” The boy’s freckled face was as incredulous as I’d ever seen it.

“Yeah, I reckon I am,” Harry replied matter-of-factly.

“But why? What if he’s trying to set you up?!”

“He’s had me right under his thumb for six years now, Ron. I think if he was going to get me killed, he’d have done it by now. Yeah, he’s a prick. So what? He’s a smart prick who actually knows what it’s like to deal with Voldemort. He has actual **plans**. Unlike us.” Ron fell into a stunned silence as Ginny carefully stared into space, pretending to not be paying any attention to the conversation going on right beside her.

We dropped their trunks in their dormitories before we proceeded back downstairs to my new quarters. Ginny and I squealed with glee when the door swung open to reveal my bedroom. It was enormous- even bigger than my bedroom at my parents’ house. I had a full-sized canopy bed with silky, luxurious red and gold hangings. The walls were papered with a warm golden brocade pattern. The middle of the floor was covered by a huge, cushy shag rug that I immediately had to kick off my sandals to try out. I was also quite pleased about my truly enormous desk, as well as the matching bookcases that flanked it.

Ginny screamed my name from the bathroom, and I dashed over enthusiastically. I gasped, “It’s as big as the bloody bedroom!!” It **was** nearly as large, and extravagantly appointed. A sunken tub took up the center of the marble floor, and I estimated that it could easily hold six people. The shower could also host a sizable party, and even the tap on the sink was an elaborate brass contraption with about a dozen knobs and levers.

The boys were anxious to get a few hours with the Quidditch pitch to themselves before the rest of the school arrived, so we happily shooed them away. Ginny listened at the door for a few seconds before sighing in relief, “Phew! They’re through that passage behind the suit of armor! I thought they’d **never** leave!”

“Why are you so anxious to get rid of them?” I asked, frowning in confusion.

“UHH... DUH!! Cause we need to dish about your lover boy!”

“Eww gross, Ginny! Do NOT call him that!”

“Mwahahaha!” she cackled devilishly. “So you finally admit it!!”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever,” I groaned, falling backward onto my insanely comfortable new bed.

Ginny jumped in beside me, excitedly squeezing me around the middle. “I just want to know how he managed to get Harry on board! Obviously, you were easily seduced by that sexy voice and his moody, aloof superiority...” “Hey!” I interjected, but she ignored me. “But Harry hated Snape more than he hated You-Know-Who himself!!! I just can’t imagine what would convince him to change his mind…”

“If I tell you, do you swear not to tell a single soul, living or dead?! I swear I’ll transfigure you into a gnat!” I demanded.

“Of course I swear! You know I’ve kept hundreds of secrets for you, Hermione!”

“Okay, okay… Severus grew up with Harry’s mum. They were best friends, and he eventually fell madly in love with her. But **she** fell for Harry’s dad, the bloke who had bullied him and made his life a living hell for years. Severus ended up joining the Death Eaters, obviously, and one night he overheard a prophecy about You-Know-Who through a cracked door in a pub. He had no way of knowing that the prophecy referred to the son of the only person he’d ever loved…” Ginny gasped, eyes filling with tears as she worked through the implications.

“He joined the Order of the Phoenix in exchange for Dumbledore protecting her. When she died… he was completely devastated. He spent the next 15 years pining for her. The only thing that kept him alive was the promise of protecting Harry- the one piece of her he had left…” my voice cracked, and I found myself quite unable to go on.

“Oh, Hermione…” Ginny whimpered, hugging me even tighter. I began to cry then as well, and we wept for a long time, for Severus, for Lily, for Harry, even for me. “I can’t imagine how you deal with all that...” she said after a while.

“It’s not easy, that’s for sure,” I gave a watery laugh. “I nearly lost him over it. I went totally ballistic… accusing him of holding me to an impossible ideal…”

“Well, was he?” she asked.

“No. No, it was all me. He never compared me to her, I was the only one who did that… He’s always going on and on about how I need to be more confident. That’s why he won’t have sex with me...”

“Are you being serious right now?” Ginny looked at me skeptically.

"I mean, he would never put it in those exact words, but that seems to be the gist of what he’s getting at... I guess it makes him feel more like a creepy old man when I’m being all weird and awkward and shy...” I sighed.

“Yeah, I could see that. Only a certain subset of hardcore creepers think that sort of thing is attractive… I just can’t believe that HE’S the one holding you back from doing it… Definitely not how I would have expected it to go,” she mused, shaking her head dazedly.

“He’s actually quite the gentleman, as weird as that sounds to say aloud…” I laughed. “He’s definitely a pervert, and an asshole, and an arrogant prick... but he’s also protective, and affectionate… and I know you’ll never believe me, but he’s actually the most sensitive man I’ve ever met. He’s just so… haunted…” I trailed off uncertainly.

Ginny giggled at me, “Oh, I totally get it! It’s the ‘Tragic Romantic’ thing. He mourned his childhood crush for half his fucking life. I can’t even imagine the kind of dedication he has to YOU! It’s sexy and kind of dangerous for a man to be **that** dedicated to a woman. Let me guess, he gets like, crazy jealous?”

“Yeah…” I sighed resignedly.

“Of course! Typical bad boy complex!”

“It’s not like that, Ginny! I’m not in love with him because he’s all dark and dangerous!”

“Wow, already using the el-oh-vee-ee word?” she whistled appreciatively, “And obviously I know that’s not the **only** reason! Now that Dumbledore’s gone, you’re the two smartest people left in the castle by a long shot. I’m simply describing the **sexual** appeal!”

I rolled my eyes and covered my face with a pillow, groaning, “Please, Merlin, make it stop!!”

“Ohhhh, no! We’re just getting **started** , Missy! I need to know how this all began... And we have over two hours till dinner, which should be PLENTY of time for you to catch me up to present day!”


	26. Climbing Up the Walls (Severus)

Hermione and I kept up the pretense of continuing her apprenticeship. In actuality, she had largely taken over my job as head potioneer for both the Order and the Dark Lord alike. My headmaster duties were keeping me far busier than I would have ever guessed. As Slytherin Head of House, I had rarely sent my students to Dumbledore for disciplinary reasons. I always felt he was too soft-hearted to be in charge of handing out punishment. The other professors, however, apparently did not share my opinion on this matter. On the worst days, I was summoning five or six students into my office to berate and assign detentions.

And disciplining the professors demanded nearly as much of my time. Despite my vehement ban on political talk, many of them were still taking it upon themselves to discuss the war with their students. I knew that most of it was prompted by the students themselves asking questions, but I had made it very clear that these discussions needed to be shut down immediately. If word got back to the Dark Lord that I was allowing my professors to speak negatively of him, my ass would be fucking ruined. As a result, I found myself having to do random, unannounced audits of lessons. This level of oversight reminded me uncomfortably of that Umbridge cow’s reign of terror, but I didn’t know what other option I had.

I was also fielding ever-increasing stacks of correspondence every day. My time and attention was demanded by wizarding parents, muggle parents, ministry officials from every single fucking department, headmasters of other wizarding schools, food suppliers, school Governors, repairmen, potion ingredient suppliers, telescope calibration specialists, financial contributors to the school, and so many more. If I had known that being headmaster involved literally nothing else besides talking to people and writing letters all day, I’m fairly certain I would have simply run away with Hermione last spring.

I couldn’t believe it, but I found myself missing teaching almost immediately. _At least I got to do something different every day- teach a new potion or spell to the class, give a lecture, do demonstrations. Now every single day is exactly the same. This fucking drudgery is going to be the death of me. I don’t know how many more times I can assure mommy that little Jimmy is perfectly safe behind the gates before I snap and start telling the truth. No, you stupid fucking twat, Jimmy is not safe. YOU’RE not safe._ **_None of us are fucking safe_ ** _. Either pull him out of school and go into hiding or get the fuck over it and move on with your life._

During those first two weeks of term, Hermione and I struggled to find time alone together. She spent most of her free hours in my private laboratory, brewing the vast majority of the potions I had orders for, while impressively managing her own homework at the same time. As if that weren’t enough, she had all her Head Girl duties to attend to. She had to be “on call” in her quarters during large stretches of the afternoon and evening in case a student came to her for anything- homework help, counseling, moderating arguments, birth control spells, sobering up their wasted friends, and pretty much anything else under the sun that they didn’t feel comfortable going to a professor or Madame Pomfrey about. On top of that, she had to patrol the corridors every other night for three hours. I swore she was even busier than me, but she always waved off the suggestion that I take some things off her plate.

Those assigned patrols, weirdly enough, turned out to be our saving grace. Since I was the one who created the schedule, I was able to put the two of us on duty together quite frequently. We could steal fifteen minutes here, an hour there- tucked behind tapestries, in broom closets, and empty classrooms. We had a couple close calls with ghosts, but ghosts are fortunately notorious for being absent-minded and unaware of their surroundings. The Fat Friar drifted through a classroom one night while I was on my knees with my face buried in Hermione’s cunt. He never even noticed us- just floated across the room and disappeared through the far wall.

I was far more concerned about Peeves catching us in the act, but I was lucky there too. I was the only professor in recent memory that Peeves feared. He knew that unlike the rest of my coworkers, I had zero qualms about hexing his ass off. If I managed to be the first one on the scene after he had created some sort of mayhem, I was more than happy to cause him a great deal of agony. As a result, he tended to steer clear of any floor I was occupying.

On the other hand, every minute I spent in the Great Hall was an absolute struggle to not openly stare at Hermione. Those three meals were both the highlight and the most difficult part of every day. I would watch her out of my peripheral vision, occasionally allowing myself to glance over under the guise of scanning the entire room. It physically pained me to see her from a distance but be completely unable to touch her or talk to her.

She came into breakfast immediately after the Hall doors unlocked at 5:30 AM every morning, so I began doing the same. As a result, we could occasionally steal twenty or thirty minutes alone to chat- her at the far end of the Gryffindor table closest to where I sat in the center of the professors’ table. We were only separated by ten meters or so at these times, which felt positively cozy after so much deprivation.

The heaviest sword hanging above my head was the Dark Lord pressuring me to introduce corporal punishment at Hogwarts. He wanted the school run like a fascist military academy, and utterly failed to see reason. He didn’t understand that if I started treating Hogwarts like the fucking Hitler Youth that the students would inevitably write to their parents about the extreme discipline and weird messages they were suddenly receiving from their professors.

Some Slytherin brat had already tattled to their Death Eater mommy and daddy that McGonagall had given him detention for calling another student a Mudblood. The Dark Lord had inflicted the Cruciatus on me for over a half-hour after He found out. Apparently, I should have overrode Minerva’s decision and rewarded the boy for “defending wizarding kind”.

I was ranting about this problem to Hermione on the second Saturday night of September. I had snuck into her quarters, managing to avoid being spotted by any portraits by taking the hidden staircase a dozen meters from her door. I was comfortably ensconced in the large reading chair next to her fireplace, while she sat curled up in my lap with her head tucked into my shoulder.

“But what are you going to do about Luna? He’s told you twice now that he wants you to torture her to convince Xenophilius to stop publishing Harry’s column! And I haven’t even written anything particularly inflammatory yet… just recounted Harry’s rough childhood and his first month at Hogwarts. I can’t imagine how he’s going to react when I start writing about Him.”

I groaned miserably, “I don’t know! I can’t fucking torture an innocent student! But he’s going to use Legilimency on me for proof, and you know I can’t create images like that out of nothing…”

“Maybe I should just stop writing the column?” she fretted.

“No… No, that wouldn’t solve anything. If not Miss Lovegood, it’ll be another student eventually. Fuck. I don’t know what the fuck to do! This is even fucking worse than being forced to murder Albus! There’s nothing more incomprehensibly despicable than torturing innocent children...”

“Well, you can use a memory charm on them so they don’t remember at least?”

“Even if you don’t consciously remember torture, the effects of PTSD are still very real. Except that you have no idea why you’re suddenly repulsed by people touching you and random loud noises make you break out into a cold sweat and your heart pound for fifteen minutes afterward. Our responses to past trauma are just as physiological as they are psychological, if not more so…” I sighed resignedly.

“What if we had a way to get around all that, though?” Hermione whispered after a long, contemplative silence.

“Impossible,” I scoffed. “There’s no way out. If I don’t start torturing students soon, He’s going to put me under the Imperious Curse. So I’ll end up doing it anyway- except even more depraved and violent.”

“There is another way… but you definitely won’t like it.”

“What is it?” I asked warily.

“I can use Polyjuice…” she began

“NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! NO FUCKING WAY!!”

“Why not? You can spank me and whip me and whatever you need to do... And I’ll look like Luna so he would never know!”

“I could never do that! That’s disgusting and wrong on so many levels, Hermione!”

“Then I could use a glamour- one good enough that when He looks at your memories you can make me look like Luna. But I’ll still look like me when you do it!”

“That’s not even the major issue! I don’t want to inflict pain and suffering on the woman I love! Gods, you really are more fucked up than I ever imagined…”

“Hey!” she exclaimed, slapping me playfully on the cheek. “Excuse you! And I know that’s a damned lie. You DO want to inflict pain on me. You’ve done it plenty of times before, and you’ve fantasized about doing much worse.”

“Ok, ok, maybe I do want to a little bit,” I admitted shamefully. “But some light spanking is very different from whipping, and a little stinging jinx on the thigh is very different from the Cruciatus.”

“I can play it up- scream and cry and pretend to be suffering horribly... I can actually act really well! I went to theatre camp three summers in a row!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, “Somehow, I doubt those two have a lot of overlap.”

She rolled her eyes, chagrined. But then she took my right hand between her two smaller ones, staring into my eyes quite seriously, “I’m telling you, Severus, I can handle this. You **know** this is our only solution. I can’t let you do that to the students, to your own soul… This is the best we’ve got.”

“You’re completely bloody insane, little girl.”

“Yeah, I know... Want to know what’s even worse?”

“Hmm?”

“My knickers are soaking wet right now...”


	27. Undisclosed Desires (Hermione)

On September 16th, I found myself in the Room of Requirement, standing before a large, ornate mirror as I put the finishing touches on my Luna glamour. My hair appeared to be a dirty blonde color, a foot longer, and wavy, rather than the coarse curls I could feel when I swept it behind my shoulder. My eyes had taken on an icy-blue hue and looked much larger than usual. I finished by decreasing the slope of my nose, rounding out my cheeks, and making my chin more elfin.  _ Not bad for having only done glamours a half-dozen times before. This is definitely close enough that Severus will be able to manipulate his memories convincingly. _

My heart was pounding furiously and my pits were damp with nervous perspiration. I took one deep breath after another, desperately willing myself to calm down.  _ He won’t do it if you look like a terrified mouse. Chill out.  _

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the door creak open behind me. I spun around, peering across the dim, torch-lit room at him. As he shut the door, it melted back into the wall. The Room would make sure we weren’t disturbed. I stood stock-still as he moved toward me with predatory slowness. When he paused a meter from me, I could see that his glittering, coal-black eyes were frighteningly distant.

“Good evening, Miss Lovegood…” he whispered, so quietly I could barely make out his words.

“Good evening, Headmaster Snape…” I answered, my voice shaky.  _ I hope he thinks I’m just a really good actress. _

He closed the distance between us, looming silently over me as I tried to swallow the knot of anxiety in my throat. “Have I done something wrong, Headmaster? Why have you called me here tonight?” I asked, voice quavering with fear.

“It is not you who has done something wrong, Miss Lovegood…” he said, sneering at me wolfishly. I could smell smoke and stale whiskey on his breath.

I stared up at him, eyes wide with terror. “Please, sir…” I whispered desperately.

His hand shot out, so quickly I didn’t even see it move, to grab me by the hair. He twisted my head painfully to the side as he shoved his face into mine. “Your father has been making a lot of enemies, Miss Lovegood, where he should have been seeking allies. The Dark Lord is very displeased with him.”

I began to weep silently, tears streaming down my face, as he pulled on my hair even harder. “Oh, no, Miss Lovegood. Crying won’t do you any good. It just makes me want to hurt you even more…” he purred with alarming sensuality.

“No! No! Please!” I screeched as he dragged me across the room by the hair. He pushed me face-first into the stone wall. I threw out my hands to catch myself, and shackles appeared out of nowhere to anchor me to the wall. I struggled against the chains, trying to reach for my wand.

“Ohhh no, there won’t be any fighting tonight.” His fingers trailed into my robes, removing my wand and tucking it into his own sleeve. He pressed against me bodily, his hips grinding into my arse. He wrapped his hands painfully tight around my waist, whispering into my hair, “The Dark Lord is very disappointed with your father, Miss Lovegood…”

“Please, Headmaster!” I bawled, desperately pulling at my shackles.

“Begging won’t do you any good,” he sneered. He stepped back, and with a simple flick of his wand, my school robes disappeared from my body. I shivered, though I didn’t know whether it was from cold or fear. 

I craned my head to look behind me. He held a simple leather strap in his right hand, and a look of purest loathing in his eyes.

As he reared back with the strap, I squeezed my eyes shut. The first blow landed with more sound than fury. The crack of the leather was incredibly loud, but my shoulders stung just a bit. The second one caught me across the thighs, and it hurt a little more. When I didn’t use our previously-agreed-upon safety word, he continued to land blow after blow on my exposed flesh. I whimpered as he struck me over and over again, each one hurting progressively worse than the one before. 

As my skin grew raw and red, I began to cry in earnest. At some point, I had started babbling, “Please, Headmaster, please. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. I didn’t do anything. I’m innocent. Please. Please…” on and on and on as he seemed to lose all sense of himself. 

His gaze was positively bloodthirsty; he was breathing hard, panting feverishly like a wolf who’s just succeeded at pulling down a deer.

He landed a hard strike across my ribcage, and I felt my skin open up. As a drop of blood trickled down my lower back, he stumbled backwards like a drunken man. 

His eyes were wide with alarm as he seemed to take in the state of me for the first time. The strap fell from his hand as tears sprung to life in the corners of his eyes. “Oh, Hermione…” he moaned miserably. He dropped to his knees, hiding his desperate weeping behind his hands.

I wandlessly vanished the shackles from my wrists and knelt, somewhat painfully, beside him. “Shh… it’s okay…” I soothed him, pulling his face into my chest. His tears soaked the white cotton of my bralette as I hummed softly to him. 

“You shouldn’t be the one comforting me!” he choked out, refusing to look up at me.

“It’s okay. Honestly, Severus,” I asserted, pulling on the back of his long, silky hair to force him to look at me. “I’m perfectly fine. Better than fine, actually…” I whispered, taking his hand in both of mine. I pressed his palm against the outside of my knickers.

He let out throaty moan, and that terrifying predatory expression sprung back into his eyes. “So fucking wet…” he moaned. I nodded frantically, hands fumbling to remove his teaching robes.

He abruptly rose to his feet, and a club chair appeared behind him. His settled himself into it like a king, unfastening his trousers. He pulled out his cock, and it was alarmingly red and veiny. “I felt like I was going to come any second…” he murmured as he stroked himself.

I crawled across the flagstone floor to him, kneeling before him deferentially. “Me too…” I whispered, watching him touch himself with rapt attention. “Do you want me to suck it?” I asked after a few seconds, blushing slightly.

“Oh, no, Miss Granger.” he teased, eyes glimmering evilly. He waved his hand in my direction, and I knew he must have erased my glamours. “So beautiful…” he whispered. 

“Now take off your bra… slowly.” I did as commanded, giving him my best attempt at a sensual look. I dropped the garment on the floor and proceeded to play with my tiny breasts for his enjoyment. He licked his lips, and his hand was a complete blur as he beat off furiously.

After a minute, I rose to my feet and turned away from him. I dragged my panties down my hips and thighs teasingly slow. I heard a rapid intake of breath behind me as I bent over and he got a perfect view of my most private areas. I stayed like that for a few seconds before I stepped out of my underwear. I turned around and pressed the girlish white cotton into his free hand. He immediately held them to his nose, inhaling deeply. His eyes closed in apparent bliss.

Turned on by his response, I found myself reaching between my own legs. My fingers scrabbled frantically over my clitoris as I stared, unblinking, into his eyes. My orgasm came quickly, and I felt my legs weaken and sag.

He threw his head back, mouth open wide and gasping. I knew he must be very close, so I dropped back to my knees.

I placed my lips over the head of his angry, swollen cock. At my touch, he completely lost it. His hand fell away. I sucked on him so hard I felt like I must be hurting him, moving my head up and down at a furious pace. The first jet of semen made me gag, but I ignored my body’s reaction. I forced myself to swallow, refusing to slow my rapid pace. Each successive spurt became easier to handle, until finally... blessedly... he was spent. I sat back, licking my lips to get every last bit, as he panted, staring at me with disbelief clouding his features.

Neither of us seemed capable of speaking as I climbed up into his lap. His still semi-erect cock pressed into my ass deliciously as I curled up on his lap. He pressed a lingering kiss on my cheek.

I rested my chin on his shoulder. “I love you…” I whispered into his ear.

“I love you more,” he gasped as he continued to struggle to catch his breath.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He let out a little huff of laughter, “Hey, that’s my line!”

“Well, you seemed to having a harder time of it tonight than me!” I teased.

“I sincerely doubt that. Would you like me to heal your back and legs now?” he inquired, suddenly rather maudlin.

  
“No rush… I’m perfectly happy right here…” I murmured, nuzzling his chest sleepily.


	28. Coming Back to Life (Severus)

By the time Hermione’s birthday rolled around, I was certain that I had masturbated while reliving our encounter in the Room of Requirement a dozen times. She had been screaming and crying in apparent agony, but she assured me over and over again that it hadn’t really hurt that badly. Until I drew blood, that is. _Fucking animal. You swore you would hold back. And you failed. Disgusting, perverted bastard._

I was just putting the finishing touches on the enchantments I had placed on her birthday gift. I sat back in my office chair, stretching luxuriously, when my arm seared with cold fire. “FUCK!!!” I screamed, pounding my fist onto the wooden top of my desk and nearly breaking a knuckle. The former Headmasters called out to me questioningly as I pounded up the spiral staircase to my quarters. I pulled my Death Eater robes over the charcoal grey trousers and fine emerald green button-down I had chosen for the special night. I tucked my masque into an interior pocket and scribbled a quick note to Hermione. I stuck the note on the forehead of the stone gargoyle guarding my office, hoping desperately that the vague statement, ‘Called away. Back soon.’ would be enough to clue her into my whereabouts.

Minutes later, I crawled forward to kiss the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes. I scrambled back to a respectful distance before pulling myself to my feet. I stood with my head lowered and waited for him to address me.

“Have you completed your task, Severus?” he asked quietly, lisping in that signature hiss of his.

“Yes, my Lord…” I grinned wolfishly, removing my masque so that he could see my expression. His snake-like eyes glittered as he dove into my mind… 

  

> **Luna Lovegood begs me to stop over and over again as I land one violent blow after another. The crack of the leather strap echoes ominously around the dungeon room.**
> 
> **Every square inch of her creamy, pale flesh glows bright red. Each individual lash is weeping blood. The blood pools and flows down her spine in a ruddy stream.**
> 
> **Her knees quake and quiver. Her body sags- the only thing keeping her on her feet are the shackles around her wrists.**
> 
> **She looks over her shoulder at me, blue eyes nearly swollen shut from all the crying. “Please, Headmaster… I didn’t do anything…”**
> 
> **“The Dark Lord is very disappointed with your father, Miss Lovegood…” I whispered sensually as I pressed my body against her own. She feels so tiny and vulnerable against me.**
> 
> **I hump her like a dog, digging my fingers into her waist...**

 

“I think I’ve seen enough…” the Dark Lord sneered as my vision returned. “Lost control, did you, Severus?”

“A bit,” I admitted, returning his wicked sneer with interest.

I let out a silent breath of relief as he nodded knowingly, “Quite understandable. We all have trouble controlling our more basic urges every once in awhile. Now we’ll see if it was enough to convince Xenophilius to stop publishing that garbage.”

“If this doesn’t do the trick, I don’t know what will,” I pondered aloud. “If his only daughter being defiled isn’t enough to scare him off, I don’t think anything will.”

“He’s a weakling,” the Dark Lord scoffed, “He won’t continue to resist me after this. I trust you are ready for your next assignment?”

I nodded with exaggerated vehemence, “Yes, My Lord. I live only to serve your pleasure…”

“Very well. Your next target is Vanessa Wiggleswade. Her father has been giving Prophet readers advice on how to effectively ward their homes against Death Eaters. This displeases me. Take care of it.”

“Absolutely, my Lord. Your will is my command,” I swept into a deep formal bow.

As I strode down the main corridor of Malfoy Manor, I heard a quiet whistle from the dining room. After glancing around to ensure I wasn’t being observed, I slipped through the double doors. Lucius appeared to have aged a year in the few weeks since I saw him last. “Evening, Severus,” he muttered sotto voce from where he sat, slumped over at the head of the massive antique dining table.

I slid into an ornately carved chair beside him. “Evening, Lucius. How goes it?” I whispered back.

“How is Draco doing?!” he asked abruptly, taking me aback somewhat with his dispensation of the usual pleasantries. “We haven’t received a single owl from him since he got to Hogwarts. His mother is going absolutely mad with worry.”

“The boy is perfectly fine. More socially withdrawn than he has been in past years, but his grades are no worse than usual,” I replied.

“Thank the gods. We’ve been imagining the worst scenarios… He’s written to Cissy every other day since he was a first-year! This was just such a strange departure. So you are absolutely certain he hasn’t been getting into any trouble?”

“None that I am aware of…” I pronounced smoothly. “He isn’t a boy anymore, Lucius. It is normal for him to grow apart from his parents. Surely you didn’t expect him to write his mommy four times a week for the rest of his life?”

“No... No, of course not,” Lucius shook his head. “You’re quite right. I’ll remind Narcissa that he’s a man now. He doesn’t need us like he used to.”

“Indeed. And do not worry yourself overmuch, Lucius. I am keeping a watchful eye on him, just as I always have.” I considered my words for a moment before continuing, “Perhaps YOU should write him a letter, Lucius. Let him know you’re thinking of him. That you support him... No matter what,” I said carefully, glancing around to indicate our dangerous surroundings.

The man’s exhausted, steel-blue eyes stared somberly into my own for a long time before he spoke, “Yes… I will do that.” I shook my friend’s hand with firm reassurance before continuing out of the Manor.

I made it back to Hogwarts having only wasted an hour of my night- practically a record. The light of the nearly-full moon revealed Hermione’s Disillusioned silhouette as I entered the gates. She leaned against the trunk of a large oak, apparently waiting for me. I pretended not to see her, walking past her and towards the castle. I vanished my Death Eater robes, sending them back into my wardrobe in my quarters.

I heard the gravel crunching quietly beneath her small feet as she crept up behind me.

I felt her closing in; I could hear the sound of her breathing.

She let out a sudden, high-pitched battle cry, taking a flying leap onto my back.

At that exact moment, I spun around. I caught her easily, holding her to my chest with one arm. She screamed and giggled, kicking her feet wildly. I dug my fingers into her ribs and armpits, tickling her mercilessly as I held her prisoner. She begged for mercy, and I finally released her after enjoying the sensation of her struggling against me a bit too much.

“Damnit!” she exclaimed, struggling to catch her breath, “I thought I was going to surprise you for once in your life!”

I waved away her Disillusionment and scoffed, “Nonsense, silly girl. There is no such thing as catching Severus Snape off guard. You’d be more likely to find a friendly Boggart or a fat Bowtruckle.”

She rolled her eyes at me fondly, and I stood back to take in her appearance for the first time. I let out an appreciative whistle, bringing an adorable blush to her cheeks. She was wearing a structured cocktail dress made of the most gorgeous merlot-colored satin. It only reached mid-thigh, and the bodice was stitched in a way that accented her incredibly tiny waist. The bright moonlight reflected off her bare shoulders and her delectable, creamy pale cleavage. “I borrowed it from this Ravenclaw sixth-year who owed me a favor… Do you like it?” she asked shyly.

“You look absolutely magnificent. I can’t imagine what incredible feat you accomplished to deserve this…” I murmured, my eyes hungrily roving up and down her body.

She giggled pleasurably, “I helped her out with some spells to catch her boyfriend cheating on her. Turns out the bastard was cheating... with a Slytherin BOY! She swore me to secrecy when we found out- offered me literally **anything** in return for keeping my mouth shut!”

“Oh, how I miss the eternal soap opera of youth,” I quipped sarcastically as I took her by the hand. I led her back downhill towards the gates as she repeatedly inquired where we were going. I kept mum, refusing to speak as I disapparated with her fingers laced into my own.

The sound of traffic assaulted us immediately as I pulled Hermione out of the alley we had appeared in. “Are we in London?!” she demanded, looking around in confusion at the street signs. I just chuckled quietly, pulling her to my side and wrapping my arm around her slim shoulders. She followed my lead, snaking her own arm tightly around my waist.

My stomach fluttered with pleasure as we walked down the crowded street together, appearing to all the world like just another ordinary couple. When I glanced down at her she beamed back at me, eyes glittering brilliantly in the dozens of multi-colored electric lights.

I was almost disappointed when we arrived at the tiny, hole-in-the-wall French bistro (that I had selected after pouring over restaurant reviews on Lucius’s computer weeks beforehand). I opened the door for her, bowing in my typical faux gentlemanly manner. She grinned at me, and I returned her smile, rather uncharacteristically.

I gave my surname to the maitre de, apologizing for our late arrival by indicating Hermione’s exquisite appearance. The man agreed with me that it was well worth the wait, and Hermione flushed a brilliant fuschia. Fortunately, our reservation was still open, and we were led to a secluded little table in the back of the restaurant.

“This is too much, Severus!!!” she gushed after I had ordered a bottle of Moet and the eight-course prix fixe menu from the server.

I shrugged nonchalantly, “Nonsense. You deserve only the best.”

The details of the meal are lost to time in a haze of fine Champagne and Bordeaux, incredible food, and sparkling conversation. Needless to say, we were riding a high of sheer pleasure by the time we left the bistro nearly three hours later. We tipsily stumbled down the street wrapped in one others’ arms, pausing frequently to snog like teenagers.

Then she pushed me against the aged brick facade of a luxury hotel, shamelessly shoving her tongue down my throat as the snooty doorman watched us disinterestedly. Her slim body insinuated itself against me with an urgency I found absolutely irresistible. When she pulled back to catch her breath, her doe eyes held none of the fear and hesitancy that I had seen so many times before. “Let’s get a room here!” she whispered excitedly.

I opened my mouth to protest, but she placed a single finger over my lips. “That wasn’t a request, Severus. I’m eighteen now- legal in both worlds. I’M making the decisions tonight.”

I nodded my head in bemusement, and she took me by the hand, practically dragging me down the sidewalk. She smiled proudly at the doorman as he let us inside with a formal bow. My head was engulfed in a dense, impenetrable fog as Hermione spoke to the well-dressed woman behind the desk. I pulled out my wallet and handed over a muggle credit card when Hermione dug her elbow into my ribs. The women said polite farewells as I was led out of the lobby. I barely took in my surroundings, noting absently the beauty of the well preserved art-deco architecture.

As the elevator doors closed behind us, Hermione burst into laughter and threw her arms around my neck. “I’m pretty sure all the employees here think I’m a call girl!!” she choked out between fits of giggles.

I watched us distantly in the mirrored wall of the elevator. _Is this really happening right now?_ I pondered. _She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my entire life, and SHE’S dragging ME into an expensive hotel room?! This has to be a dream._

I finally found my voice as the floors ticked by, “Nah. They just think you’re a potential trophy wife trying to land a sugar daddy. No hooker dresses like that,” I indicated her reflection.

She looked at herself with an amused quirk to her painted lips. I was pleased when she didn’t frown at her reflection the way she usually did. “I suppose not. This is obviously a horribly expensive dress for how little actual fabric there is! And I AM wearing kitten heels, rather than fuck-me pumps!” she joked goodnaturedly.

The doors slid open with a ding at the eighteenth floor. “Appropriate…” I grunted with an amused roll of my eyes. “I assume you specifically requested a room on this floor?”

“You were standing right there! You seriously don’t remember?” she asked incredulously as she slid a keycard into a door halfway down the hall. I just shook my head in silence as we entered the room.

She squealed with elation, scampering forward to take it all in. A low, king-sized platform bed dominated the room, covered with sumptuous white linens and no fewer than ten huge, squashy pillows. A small seating area of ultra-modern white furniture was arranged around an electric fireplace. I pushed open the bathroom door, impressed to find an opulent claw-footed tub large enough to hold two people quite comfortably.

I stood beside the door, quite frozen, as Hermione gushed about the extravagance of the room. She finally seemed to notice my hesitance, running over to pull me farther into the suite. She loosened the knot of my black-on-black houndstooth tie and unbuttoned the throat of my shirt, grinning at me the whole time. “Emerald green looks amazing on you, by the way,” she commented off-handedly. “It’s almost like you were born to be a Slytherin.”

I teased her with a imperious look and sniffed, “That’s because I was.”

“And I was born to be a Gryffindor…” she whispered to herself, suddenly serious.

Her hands trailed lazily down my stomach as she finished unbuttoning my shirt.

Then her fingertips brushed across my ribcage, raising goosebumps on my arms. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and the skin of her palms was cool and smooth against the rapidly-heating flesh of my lower back. She placed a single kiss on my sternum, right at her eye-level, before looking up at me. Her smoky eyes held bare adoration in their depths as she murmured, “I love you, Severus Tobias Snape.”

My throat clenched with emotion as I replied, “I love you, Hermione Jean Granger.”

I was taken completely off guard when she suddenly yanked on my tie, pulling me into a truly aggressive snog. The nails of her left hand dug painfully into my lower back as she continued to practically choke me with the tie she held fisted in her right.

My own hands had slipped up her dress at some point, and I was sure I was hurting her with how tightly I was squeezing her little round bum.

Then I was thrown off balance when she suddenly shoved me with all her might, putting her shoulder into my chest. I let out a cry of alarm as I fell backwards onto the gigantic bed.

She held me down, laughing at my shocked expression as she ripped off my shirt and tie.

She tried to straddle my hips, but the fabric of her dress had no stretch to it, and the entire skirt rode all the way up to her waist. She huffed with annoyance and stood back up, reaching around awkwardly to yank on the back zipper. I helped her undo the hook-and-eye, and the little cocktail dress fell to the wooden floor.

I couldn’t help but lick my lips as I took in the vision of loveliness before me. She wore no bra, and a lacy white pair of panties rode low on her slim hips. Her rosy pink nipples were hard in the air-conditioned room. The soft light of the bedside lamp cast shadows under her prominent ribs and hipbones. My breath caught in my throat as her delicate fingers hooked around the thin straps of her underwear. She pulled them down torturously slow as she held my unblinking gaze with her own.

After allowing me a few moments of slavish admiration, she knelt at the foot of the bed. She untied my oxblood wingtip boots and eased them off my feet, along with my socks. I made noises of protest, which she completely ignored, as she unbuckled my belt. She undid my trousers, yanking them down my hips and out from under me with some difficulty. Every time I tried to speak, she shushed me and placed her small hand over my mouth.

She rose and walked around the side of the gigantic bed, climbing up to lounge against the pile of pillows. I craned my neck to watch her. She crooked her finger at me imperiously, and I rolled over like a dog. I crawled across the comforter to where she she reclined, looking intensely alluring with her knees spread for me.

She wrapped her legs around my lower back as I settled between her thighs.

I kissed her feverishly... madly... thoughtlessly.

Her teeth pulled at my lower lip.

Her sharp nails scrabbled frantically across my scarred back.

She pushed her hips insistently into my own, rubbing herself against my throbbing erection.

“Hermione…” I whispered in desperation.

Suddenly, her fingers were hooking onto the waistband of my underwear. She pulled them down my thighs then gripped my ass tightly in her small hands, pushing my hips toward her. My cock slid maddeningly against her warm, slick opening.

“Now. Put it in…” she whispered.

“Her…” I gasped, but she interrupted me before I could protest. “Hush, Severus. I’m done talking about it. It’s time,” she asserted.

I began to speak again, but she reached between our bodies and grasped my cock tightly in her hand. I let out an enormous groan, bucking my hips against her with no further conscious thought.

She placed me at her entrance, whispering sternly, “Now, Severus. Now.”

I thrust my hips forward abruptly- unthinkingly.

She let out an ear-piercing scream, throwing her head back into the mountain of pillows. I held myself still as a statue as she writhed in pain beneath me. I only had about two inches of my length inside her, but I could already feel her stretching to accommodate me.

The incredible panicked clenching of her muscles eventually slowed, and she took a couple of deep calming breaths. “Ok. You can move now,” she whimpered.

I nodded, pulling my hips back just a fraction of an inch before pushing into her again. She let out a pained squeak, “FUCK!” But she dug her nails into my ass nonetheless, urging me forward.

I gave her another carefully measured stroke, and she made no further exclamations.

I kissed her with exceeding gentleness as I gingerly, heedfully, filled her further and further, deeper and deeper.

Within a few minutes, her gasps of pain gradually transformed into those of excitement. She made a lovely little humming sound when I lowered my lips to wrap around her left nipple.

She could take nearly five inches of me before I bumped against her cervix. It was all I could do to hold back from thrusting myself to the hilt, but I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her even more than I already had.

Her cunt was unbelievably tight- the tightest I had ever felt...

And the mind-numbing heat of it was almost more than I could bear...

But then she reached between us and began to stroke her clitoris. Her fingers flew across the tiny bundle of nerves as she made the most beguiling little mewling noises I have ever heard in my life. I was already fighting the need to come, and she was not making it easy on me.

I increased my pace, slamming my hipbones into her slender thighs, each forceful contact eliciting a little squeak from her. I wondered if I was hurting her, but her chestnut eyes held nothing but fire in their fierce depths.

I felt my balls begin to tighten as they slapped noisily against her ass. I grunted roughly with each thrust, deliberately slowing myself down. I desperately repeated the list of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood in my head.

She gave a great cry of release, the walls of her passage clenching tightly around me as she finally brought herself to orgasm.

The roiling contractions of her orgasm were more than I could stand, and I let go.

Semen exploded out of me as my hips jerked frantically, arrhythmically...

My edges of my vision went black for a long few moments as my ears rang.

When I tried to pull out of her, she dug her fingers into my hips, forcing me to stay where I was.

We hadn’t broken eye contact through the entire act, and we continued to stare, unblinkingly, at each other. Not knowing quite what I was doing, I dove into her mind… 

 

> **The fabric of her being envelopes me like a warm hug. Her mind is a glorious, psychedelic swirl of pink and purple. I reach out, hungry to touch her, to experience her.**
> 
> **I fall into her mind, mired in a swirling, churning sea of arousal and love. I am tossed this way and that on waves of sheer pleasure.**
> 
> **I see flashes of our times together… feel the sensation of my own tongue on her clitoris… the searing agony of my cock ripping through her maidenhead… the throbbing need between her legs as I whip her with a leather strap…**  

I felt a great SHOVE and my vision abruptly returned as I flew back into my own mind. She gave me a mischievous grin, and dove into me before I could even think about blocking her. I wondered what the state of my mind could possibly look like at such an extraordinary moment. I saw her flipping through my memories as I had done, curious about what our trysts looked like from my point of view. She took one final, lingering glance at the night I had told her that I loved her for the first time… before backing gently out of my mind.

She smiled at me shyly, apparently unable to speak. I simply nodded my understanding of the terrifying enormity of everything… everything we’d felt... everything we’d done…

After a few minutes of contemplating each other in silence, her eyelids began to droop sleepily. I finally pulled out of her, eliciting a sigh of disappointment from between her red, swollen lips. I laid on my back, pulling her over to lie on top of me. She shifted around and settled her head into the hollow below my chest, making an adorable little purr of contentment when she found just the right spot.

I hummed soothingly to her, and the ad-libbed melody gradually melted into Pink Floyd’s “Coming Back to Life”. My chest rumbled against her cheek as I quietly began to serenade her,

 

> Where were you
> 
> When I was burned and broken
> 
> While the days slipped by
> 
> From my window watching
> 
>  
> 
> And where were you
> 
> When I was hurt and I was helpless
> 
> 'Cause the things you say
> 
> And the things you do surround me
> 
>  
> 
> While you were hanging yourself
> 
> On someone else's words
> 
> Dying to believe in what you heard
> 
> I was staring straight into the shining sun...
> 
>  
> 
> Lost in thought
> 
> And lost in time
> 
> While the seeds of life
> 
> And the seeds of change were planted
> 
> Outside the rain fell dark and slow
> 
> While I pondered on this dangerous but irresistible pastime
> 
>  
> 
> I took a heavenly ride through our silence
> 
> I knew the moment had arrived
> 
> For killing the past and coming back to life
> 
>  
> 
> I took a heavenly ride through our silence
> 
> I knew the waiting had begun
> 
> And headed straight
> 
> Into the shining sun


	29. The Ecstatics (Hermione)

We managed a few hours of sleep until I awoke with an erection pressing painfully into my stomach.  My stirring woke him as well, and he immediately apologized for his body’s unconscious reaction. “Hush,” I whispered, “Don’t talk.”

He stared at me, rather bemused, as I sat up and straddled his hips. I lowered myself onto him as he let out a gasp of pleasure and surprise. I was rather sore and swollen, but still extremely wet, so he slid in easily.

I panicked, realizing all of a sudden that I had no idea what I was doing. As if he could read my mind, he closed his eyes, giving me the illusion of privacy. I rotated my hips experimentally, bringing a sigh of pleasure from his lips. Encouraged, I swung my hips in a sort of figure-eight motion, slowly increasing my speed as the pain between my legs abated.

His chest rose and fell erratically as he took in one ragged breath after another. I was disappointed that I had only managed to fit maybe two-thirds of him inside of me. I leaned forward, resting my hands on his muscular pecs.

He wrapped his hands around my hips, forcing me into a sort of bouncing motion, up and down. I rode his cock faster and faster as he slammed me onto himself. His fingertips dug painfully into my hipbones.

A sharp ache shot straight up into my back from my cervix every time he slammed me down. But still I went harder. My hands scrabbled desperately across his chest, struggling to keep my balance. I noticed we were both letting out the most bizarre series of animalistic grunts and groans.

Then I leaned back, resting my hands on his upper thighs. His eyes flew open, their oil-black depths reflecting the sight of me- riding him, back arched, tits in the air. He let out an enormous, shuddering breath as he came, apparently against his will. I milked him until he was dry then carefully climbed off.

I sprawled on my back as my thighs and abdominal muscles screamed in protest. “That’s way more of a workout than I thought it would be!!!” I giggled as I struggled to catch my breath. He rolled over, resting his head on my narrow chest with a contented sigh.

His long fingers crept across my inner thigh, tickling me. He pressed his palm against my swollen outer labia, then dragged his middle finger ever-so-gently through our combined fluids. He brought the finger to my lips, and I opened my mouth submissively. His eyes were dark with desire as he watched me suck his finger dry.

He immediately returned to teasing me, dragging his fingertip in exaggerated slow circles around my clitoris. “Please…” I whispered, and he let out the evilest, sexiest little chuckle I had ever heard in my life. All of a sudden, his two fingers positively sang across my clitoris. He strummed me like a guitar as I screamed his name over and over again.

When I came, it was like being crushed beneath a waterfall. I gasped like a fish out of water, writhing and thrashing against his hand, as he fought to keep me still. When I finally collapsed, what felt like minutes later, I could only whisper his name once more before falling right to sleep. We repeated this cycle twice more before morning- waking briefly to make love, then falling back into a glorious, exhausted slumber.

When Severus shook me awake at 4:30 AM, I was immediately floored by how insanely sore I had gotten. I let out a pained moan, clenching my legs together and curling into the fetal position. He clicked on the lamp, looking over at me with alarm. There was a decent amount of blood smeared across the white sheets and my thighs, but not as much as I had expected.

“Are you in a lot of pain, Hermione?” he asked, concern written plain across his features.

“Just… a bit sore,” I muttered, trying to smile at him reassuringly. He shook his head at me, obviously not buying the act.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he commanded in his best professor voice.

“Don’t worry. I’m not planning an early morning jog,” I replied drily.

I heard the tap running in the other room, and after a few minutes, the heavenly scents of honeysuckle and orange blossom drifted out of the bathroom.

He strode back across the room to me, and I couldn’t help but stare at his raging morning wood, bobbing along as he walked. “Just ignore him,” he scoffed as he carefully lifted me into his arms.

He carried me into the bathroom, stepping cautiously into the large claw-foot tub. He lowered us into the hot, soapy water, placing me between his outstretched legs. I leaned back against his chest, sighing comfortably.

“Better?” he whispered into my ear, and I nodded dreamily.

“It’s not just my… you know… that’s hurting,” I remarked shyly. “My legs and arms and abs are SO sore too. I didn’t realize I was using so many muscle groups!”

He chuckled quietly. “Sex isn’t always quite so... acrobatic. You can get a bit wild, Miss Granger,” he teased.

I blushed and was immensely relieved that he couldn’t see my face. I chose to ignore his comment, closing my eyes and sinking deeper into the suds.

After debating with myself a few minutes, I murmured, “Sing to me...”

He scoffed at my request, but after a few minutes of my disappointed silence, his basso profundo began to echo around the little bathroom. I didn’t recognize many of the songs he sang, but his gorgeous voice made each of them sound even sweeter than the last. Most of them were love songs, and my heart fluttered distractingly in my chest each time his powerful voice came to a crescendo. I melted into him, revelling in the vibrations of his chest against my back, filling my body and soul to the brim.

When he told me it was time to go, I was heartbroken. I was utterly despondent as he dried me off and dressed me in my clothes once again. He handled our check-out with the new woman at the desk, and we disapparated in the alleyway beside the hotel.

As we stepped through the Hogwarts gates, he made a complicated motion towards me with his wand. I watched in awe as the fancy dress transfigured into plain black school robes. “That won’t be permanent, so you’d better go straight up to your room and get dressed in your own clothes,” he pronounced crisply as I jogged to keep up with his long strides.

“Are you coming with me? It’s Sunday. We could probably steal a couple more hours together...” I panted.

“No. I need to see if my presence has been missed during the night. There could be a dozen pissed-off owls waiting for me in my office,” he scowled.

“Well, MY presence will certainly have been missed. Harry, Ginny, and Ron were probably planning something for my birthday!”

“You had better come up with a damn good excuse,” he looked over at me, worry creasing his perfectly-arched brows.

“I’ll just tell them I fell asleep in your lab after brewing again. It’s already happened a half-dozen times this semester alone!”

He nodded his head, but didn’t look any less worried. He slipped through the front doors of the castle around 5:15 AM, looking around to make sure the hall was clear before letting me in. I pressed a brief, but intense, kiss to his lips before we set off up the main staircase at a jog. I gave him a quick wave and disappeared up the stairs hidden behind a particularly hideous statue of a cave troll.

I crept out from behind the suit of armor, tip-toeing the couple of meters to the door of my room so that the portraits down the hall couldn’t hear me. I closed the door behind me and waved my hand, igniting the taper on my bedside table, barely managing to stifle a screech of alarm when my eyes made out the shape of a body beneath my covers. But then I distinguished a mop of dark ginger hair amongst the red blankets, and I sighed in relief. I slid under the blankets beside Ginny, and she rolled over, yawning muzzily.

“Well, well…” she said in a scolding tone, but her twinkling eyes belied her sternness. “And just where were you last night, Missy?? We were worried sick!”

I utterly failed to hide my girlish glee as I squealed, “He took me to London! Spent nearly 400 pounds on a bloody amazing candlelit dinner in this beautiful little French restaurant! Then we got a HOTEL ROOM!!!”

“OH MY GODS!!!” Ginny squealed back, sitting up and throwing the covers off us in excitement.

“I KNOW!!! We made love FOUR TIMES!! Then we took this incredibly romantic bath, and he sang to me, and it was just the most **bloody** **perfect** night of my entire fucking life!!!!”

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” she screamed, grabbing both of my hands and bouncing up and down excitedly. “How was it?!”

“It was… **perfect**. There was literally nothing that could’ve been better. The hotel room was gorgeous… and he was so gentle… and I legilimized him afterwards and his mind was just overflowing with love… he was so much happier than I have ever seen him before,” I gushed.

“Oh my gods I am soooo jealous! There’s no way my and Harry’s first time will be **anything** like that! You found yourself a real man who actually knows how to treat a woman properly!”

“I KNOW!! The whole night just felt like a dream, you know?! Like a scene from a movie. Or the life of someone way more interesting than me!”

As I shifted my transfigured robes so that I wasn’t sitting on the back of them and nearly choking myself, I felt a weird bulge I hadn’t noticed before. I reached into an interior pocket, exclaiming, “How the hell did he sneak this in here?!”

I pulled out a festively wrapped package with an obvious shrinking charm placed on it. I enlarged the gift, ripping the colorful patterned paper off excitedly as Ginny egged me on. We both gasped in admiration as a gorgeous leather-bound book fell out. It was slightly smaller than a muggle school notebook, and the cover was embossed with the most intricate designs I had ever seen- flowers, vines, dragons, veela, hippogriffs, serpents, and lions swirled and blended into each other. I was amazed by a bizarre phenomenon- when I looked directly at the book, the designs appeared stationary. When I watched out of the corner of my eye, however, the plants and animals seemed to dance and weave around each other like they were all taking part in some sort of ancient pagan ritual.

It had an elaborate magical lock on the side, which was made up of some unidentifiable type of beautiful, bronze-colored metal. When I placed my thumb against the lock, it made a pleasant humming sound and felt warm against my skin. The book fell open, and I began to flip through the pages curiously. They were all lined, but perfectly blank. Curiously, I could never seem to reach the end of the book. No matter how many pages I flipped, they just kept coming. I pointed this out to Ginny and she exclaimed, “It must be some sort of enchantment! Like an undetectable extension charm, but for a book! And I bet that lock will only open for you!”

“I’ve never even heard of such a thing!!! An endless notebook?! That’s like, my ultimate fantasy!” I exclaimed. “He must have figured out how to do it all on his own!!”

“Holy shit, he really IS a bloody genius!” Ginny let out a low whistle of admiration.

I ran to my desk, hastily dipping a quill in my inkwell and grinning ear-to-ear as I scribbled, ‘Hermione Granger Loves Severus Snape’.

“There! Now that will always be the first thing written in here!” I gushed, hugging the book to my chest and falling back into my bed. I cradled it in my arms, running my fingers along the spine, reveling in the sensation of holding this beautiful object he had created. I could feel the familiar traces of his magic all over it. I could smell his signature scent like it had been baked right into the leather- potions and incense smoke, with a musky undercurrent of cannabis. 

Suddenly, the charmed metal glowed bright red and warmed pleasantly against my chest. Confused, I pressed the pad of my index finger against the lock. The book automatically fell open to the first page. We both gasped with surprise as Severus’s familiar spiky handwriting scrawled along an inch or so below mine, ‘Severus Snape Loves Hermione Granger’.

“Oh my gods, it’s like Tom Riddle’s diary!” Ginny gasped.

“No way!” I exclaimed, and we both ran over to my desk. I quickly wrote, ‘Are you there?’

We waited a few seconds, and sure enough, blank ink seemed to well up from inside the page, forming his words, ‘Yes, I am talking to you from my office right now. I have your book’s twin, and everything we write will appear in the other book simultaneously.’

‘That’s bloody brilliant!!!’ I wrote in huge letters, underlining it multiple times.

‘Just a simple charm. Thought it would be useful for research.’

‘And for clandestine love letters?’

‘Naturally. Now get dressed and go to breakfast. It will look suspicious if you’re not there ridiculously early, as per usual.’

‘SIR YES SIR!!!’

‘I’ll get you for that, cheeky little girl. See you soon. All my love.’


	30. Tangle Formations (Hermione)

The rest of September and October were sheer bliss. Severus’s headmaster duties were finally letting up now that we were well and truly into the term. The volume of letters that flooded his desk every day had shrunk by over half.

Even better, he began taking truly astronomical amounts of House Points from students when they were sent to him for punishment. This brilliant move discouraged the four Heads of House from sending their kids to him, because no professor in their right mind willingly sacrifices a shot at the House Cup.

I was beyond thrilled that he was managing to find more time to spend in the lab with me. Brewing was so much more efficient with the two of us working together. We communicated nonverbally so well- it was almost like we could read each other’s minds. I didn’t even have to ask him to pass me something before it was pressed into my hand. We never got in the way, moving smoothly and seamlessly around one another like we were dancing a choreographed ballet.

Since his record player was upstairs in his tower room, I encouraged Severus to sing to fill the quiet of the lab while we worked. After a couple weeks, I began to learn the words to some of his favorite songs and joined in. My voice was nowhere near as good as his, but he taught me the principles of breath control and key, so I was steadily improving.

Of course, my favorite moments were the stretches of empty time while our potions simmered. I should have been doing my schoolwork, but for the first time in my life, it wasn’t my first priority. After all, it’s not like my grades were going to drop precipitously if I only revised for an exam five hours rather than ten. Instead, we spent many luxurious hours sprawled on his huge couch, completely wrapped up inside one another.

Severus was an exciting, incredible lover- gentle and affectionate at times, rough and degrading at others. He always kept me guessing. Every single time we were together was a uniquely mind-blowing experience. He was constantly teaching me new things, uncovering my body’s long-held secrets, building my self-confidence. Some days we would be in a silly mood, play-acting as a slutty student and dirty old professor. Other times he would bring tears to my eyes with his gentle, sensuous, worshipful love-making.

Occasionally, we’d act out far darker fantasies. Voldemort forced him to torture me twice more, and the sex after these whippings was by far the most transcendent. The combination of extreme pain and pleasure gave me these ridiculous endorphin highs. At some point, Severus decided he no longer needed the excuse of You-Know-Who’s command to hurt me. I had to use our safety word once or twice, but he was always exceedingly conscientious and gentle with me.

The sexual confidence I was building began to bleed into the rest of my life as well. I wore makeup to class on occasion; nothing crazy, just some basic powder and mascara, but it gave my mood a nice boost to look in the mirror and not immediately hate what I saw. It also occurred to me that I should probably stop wearing the same ripped jeans and faded t-shirts I’d had since I was eleven. Ginny and my roommates happily jumped at the chance to dress me up in their clothes on the weekends- dresses, mini skirts, sheer shirts. I always felt silly at first, but the looks and compliments I got in the Great Hall would dissuade my self-doubt. I certainly hadn’t expected that taking more pride in my appearance would have such a positive effect on my general state of mind. Ginny commented multiple times that I was walking differently now- head held higher, shoulders no longer slumped forward, eyes looking straight ahead rather than focused on my feet.

Ron and Harry were less pleased with my newfound assertiveness. I wouldn’t let them copy my homework any more, and I would only check their essays for errors- refusing to completely rewrite them as I had always done before. Their grades dropped a bit at first, but they quickly realized that they needed to seriously buckle down if they wanted enough NEWTS to become aurors. It wasn’t like I could take their exams for them. Soon enough, they were working harder and making better marks than they ever had with me constantly looking over their shoulders.

 

 

Severus and I were on the couch, wrestling each other’s robes off, when his Dark Mark burned on the evening of October the 30th. I trailed fretfully after him as he stormed across the lab. He cursed colourfully as he yanked a folded set of Death Eater robes out of his desk drawer. I helped pull them over his shoulders and did up the frog closures for him. I laced my fingers into his silky hair, pulling him down into a deep kiss, trying to inject as much meaning into it as I possibly could. “It’ll be okay, Hermione,” he told me as he pulled away.

I nodded my head with false conviction. “Please be careful,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes as I desperately tried to blink them away. He held me to his chest one last time, resting his chin on the top of my head, before sweeping out of the room in a dramatic flurry of black robes.

I spent the next two hours finishing the potions that we had started brewing earlier in the night. Meanwhile, the butterflies in my stomach gradually evolved into an angry swarm of bees. By the time I was done filling flasks with my completed concoctions, I felt like I could vomit at any second. I disillusioned myself and practically sprinted upstairs from the dungeons and out the front door of the castle.

As midnight came and went, my attempts at meditation became increasingly futile. My stomach roiled and clenched with anxiety.  It felt like my gut had been sliced open, and my insides were being squeezed and prodded by a mad scientist. My pulse pounded in my temple, giving me a monstrous migraine.

1 AM ticked past with interminable sluggishness. I had to keep casting drying charms on my armpits and hands; my entire body was covered in a cold sweat. I paced back and forth in front of the gates, reciting a list of charms I had memorized from the reference text of medical spells Severus had given me over the summer.

It was nearly a quarter to 2 when a black-clad figure appeared on the other side of the gate and promptly collapsed to the ground. The gates opened for him, but he made no move to enter. I sprinted forward, ripping my leggings and bloodying my knees as I skidded into the gravel beside him. I rolled the tall man onto his back with some difficulty.

Severus’s eyes were clenched shut, and his lips were parted, pulling in shallow, rattling breaths. I shook him, shouting his name over and over again. I lit my wand, holding it up to examine his face. I pulled back his eyelids, and his lack of reaction to the glaring light in his eyes told me he was beyond conscious thought. A stream of ruby-red blood flowed steadily from his nose, which was crooked and horribly swollen. _Obviously broken._ His bottom lip appeared to have been bitten; a frighteningly deep, inch-long gash gushed blood. _He only_ **_just_ ** _avoided biting straight through it._

I undid his robes with hands that barely shook. I trailed my fingertips along his ribcage, counting at least three that were definitely fractured, and a few more that were questionable. I couldn’t pull his trousers off right there in front of the Hogwarts gates, but the tortured moans that escaped his throat when I prodded them indicated a shattered kneecap and severe muscular damage in his calves and thighs.

I stood up, taking two deep breaths to steady myself before swish-and-flicking my wand at his prone form. “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” I cried. His body rose slowly and gently into the air. He let out a grunt of pain at the sudden movement, but his eyes remained shut. I held my wand out in front of me, fastidiously steady, as I proceeded up the steep incline to the castle.

I whispered encouragement and sweet nothings to him as I walked. I knew he probably couldn’t hear me, but it made me feel better at least. I couldn’t cast healing charms at the same time I was levitating him with my wand, so it was the best I could do.

I waved my hand at the front doors, and they flew open at my gesture. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you to the Hospital Wing!” I cried urgently after the doors slammed shut behind us, startling him awake.

“No…” he whispered with a voice so delicate and raw that it tore my heart to shreds.

“I have to! We need Madame Pomfrey! You’re too injured! I can’t fix you…” I began to weep silently as I struggled to keep my voice calm for him.

“No… You…” he breathed, but then his body slumped like a ragdoll- he was unconscious again.

The journey up to his tower felt like the longest of my entire life. I tried to avoid as many portraits as I could, but the ones who did see us called out alarmed questions and demanded to know what was going on. By a stroke of sheer dumb luck, Severus and I had been assigned to patrol the corridors that night/early morning. This allowed us to avoid running into any other people on the numerous staircases and hallways I had to traverse.

“Why the hell didn’t you install some sort of shortcut?! You’re the Headmaster for fuck’s sake!” I complained to his limp body when we finally reached his office entrance.

I stopped short, remembering abruptly that I didn’t know the password. I’d only been in it a handful of times so far that semester, and only on official Head Girl business. The last thing we wanted was for the former Headmasters to go to their other portraits at the Ministry, or Gringotts, or St. Mungo’s, and gossip about surly, greasy Severus Snape having a female student in his office at all hours of the day and night.

But now our caution had come back to bite us squarely on the ass. “Shit! Shit!” I cursed, lowering Severus to the ground and shaking him by the shoulder. “Severus! Severus! Master Snape! Wake up! I need you!” But he remained utterly dead to the world. I pulled myself to my feet with a huff, them stomped furiously back and forth in front of the stone gargoyle.

“Salazar? Rush? Ozzy? Sativa? Indica? Zoso? Tolkien? Aoxomoxoa? Ogden? Thom Yorke? Atwood? Libatius Borage?...” I rattled off every random thing that sprang into my head.

“Dumbledore? Lily? Half-Blood Prince? Harry Potter?”

I thought aloud, desperately trying to reason through his thinking, “Fuck! Fuck! What’s important to him?! There’s potions… the war… books… music… Fuck! But what’s the most important thing in the world to him? What gives him the strength to face each day? It _used_ to be avenging Lily… So could the password be about _me_? But how? It’s not like he can use my name, since all the professors know the password… So something only we would know about…”

I pulled on my hair frantically, staring down at his mangled face. My vision blurred with tears that I wiped away with a screech of frustration. Then, I was hit by a sudden stroke of inspiration… “Wait! The night you confessed that you loved me… You sang to me… Wish You Were Here?!” Nothing. “Damn! What was the second one?! It was a Rush song…”

I could see the Farewell to Kings artwork in my mind’s eye. I focused intently, visualizing flipping over the album cover. I was so close. I could almost see the titles of the songs… But the exact words were a blur in my memory. “I know there was a song called Xanadu… and something about Cinderella… WAIT!” I jumped to my feet. “MADRIGAL!!!” I shouted triumphantly, and the gargoyle leapt aside with a bow.

My heart felt like it could burst out of my chest at any moment as I rode the stairs, carefully levitating him behind me. I ignored the shouts of the Headmasters as I deftly maneuvered his body through his office and around his desk. They were all talking over each other in alarm, and I could hear the clamor continuing below even after I had taken him up the spiral staircase to his quarters.

I couldn’t help but admire the cavernous room as I peered around and got my bearings. _What to do?! Focus, Hermione. Focus. First, get the blood cleaned off him so you can determine the extent of his injuries._ I took him into the bathroom, lowering him with exceeding gentleness into the gigantic, sunken tub. I vanished every last stitch of his clothing, which was torn and stained beyond hope of repair, and after a moment of contemplation, removed mine as well and climbed in with him.

I turned tap after tap, becoming increasingly frustrated with the obnoxious variety of bubbles they produced. “I just want some fucking water!” I screamed at the spout, and as if it had understood me: clear, lukewarm water flowed forth. I cupped the liquid in my hands, carefully pouring it over the gashes and scratches that covered his knees and shins. His left knee was already turning a disgusting greenish-purple shade from where he had fallen and shattered the kneecap.

I went on to rinse his bloodied hands ever-so-gingerly. I was reminded of The Degloving, that gruesome painting at the entrance to his private laboratory. I swallowed hard, willing myself not to gag. The scratches and friction burns all over his arms and legs told me that he had clearly been grasping and crawling and writhing across a dungeon floor for hours and hours. I also suspected that his hands had been held in a fireplace at some point- nothing else could cause that degree of blistering.

I summoned a washcloth from the cabinet in the corner. I wetted it and very gently wiped the blood from his face. By now the tub was full enough that I could more easily move him around to reach the rest of him. As I wiped the thick coat of dried blood from his back, I saw that the flesh was covered in hundreds of deep, perfect slices. _Sectumsempra. His own damn spell. Those bastards._

I let out a huge sigh of relief when I examined lower. _Thank the gods Bellatrix didn’t rape him again. That poor man. He’s not even capable of emotionally processing it when it happens._

When I had gotten him as clean as I could manage without exacerbating his injuries further, I drained the tub of the bloodied pink water. I dried us off with my wand and threw on my school robes haphazardly, not even bothering with my bra. He let out an agonized groan when I lowered him face-down onto his bed. “Shh… It’s okay. It’ll be over soon…” I whispered, rearranging the pillows to cradle his mangled face. The right side of it was swelling and bruising so much that I suspected a fractured cheekbone.

I went to the large, antique glass-front medicine cabinet in the corner. I rifled through his flasks of potion, silently thanking him for his fastidious organizational skills. I grabbed the Magic Carpet Ride, the special Cruciatus Potion I had invented last semester, some Skele-Gro, Blood Replenishing Potion, Essence of Dittany, and Strengthening Solution. I placed the bottles on his bedside table in an orderly row.

“First things first…” I spoke aloud to steady myself as I unscrewed the top of the Dittany. I carefully dribbled the Essence along each gaping wound on his back. It sizzled and popped as his skin rapidly knit itself back together. Ten minutes of effort rewarded me with a clean expanse of raw, brick-red, but blessedly mended skin.

Now that he could lie on his back without soaking the sheets with blood, I was able work on the rest of him. I used my wand to flip him over, and his eyes flew open when he dropped back onto the mattress. “Shh… Shh… It’s okay. I’ve got you…” I whispered to him as his bulging, tormented eyes flitted this way and that. He finally focused on my face, and his panicked expression quelled. “That’s it. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” I soothed him as I measured out doses of everything but the Magic Carpet Ride.

I pulled on his upper arms, slowly helping him sit up, and piled his pillows to keep him in an upright position. I tipped each potion down his throat, and he dutifully swallowed each of them without even a single grimace of disgust. “Good job. That’s my boy…” I whispered encouragingly.

The deep creases between his brows softened almost immediately as the painkillers kicked in and his bones started growing back together. “Take a deep breath. This is gonna hurt for a second,” I told him as I pointed my wand in his face. “EPISKEY!” I cried and immediately cringed as his nose made a nauseating crunching noise. Severus reached for his face, running his fingers along his newly straightened nose with a feather-light touch. “Not bad,” he croaked, honoring me with the tiniest of smiles.

I grinned back at him encouragingly. “Give me your hands,” I commanded, and he complied immediately. I swallowed back the vomit welling up in the back of my throat as I dribbled Dittany onto his palms. “Now rub it all over.” His face was a mask of agony as he spread the salve all over his hands, but within seconds they were covered in a new layer of beautifully fresh, pink skin.

I finished up by treating the scrapes on his legs, and making sure that his bones would set properly as the Skele-Gro did its job. Once I was sure I had done all I could for him, I gave him a large dose of the Magic Carpet Ride. “I’ll see you in a few hours, my love,” I whispered to him as I placed a tender kiss on his sweaty forehead.

“Don’t leave me…” he moaned, grabbing my hand with surprising strength.

“I’ll be right here. I can miss my morning class. It’s no problem at all,” I reassured him.

“Love… you…” he breathed, staring intently into my eyes.

“I love you too,” I whispered tenderly, stroking his damp hair until his eyes rolled into the back of his head. I closed his eyelids then walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to him. I rested my head on his chest, wrapping my arm tightly around his waist. I tried to get in a few hours of sleep, but I spent most of the night just staring at his face, listening to his heartbeat, and counting his breaths.


	31. Disintegration Anxiety (Hermione)

Around 10:30 AM I heard the distinctive grinding sound of someone riding the spiral staircase into Severus’s office. My first reaction was sheer, mind-numbing panic for being discovered somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. I wondered frantically whether I should try to hide in the bathroom. But I quickly quashed that idea, reminding myself that I had a legitimate excuse for being in his bedroom. Not for spending the night, obviously, but at least it was something.

I scrambled out of the bed, pulling up the sheets to disguise where I had slept. My eyes darted to the open bathroom door where my bra was lying in the middle of the floor. I flicked my wand in that direction, vanishing it with only seconds to spare, as Professor McGonagall climbed into view.

“Morning Professor!” I chirped in my best Head Girl voice, internally scolding myself for sounding so damned chipper.

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” she pronounced crisply, barely glancing over at me. She went straight to Severus’s side, bending over to examine his face and bruised, scarred torso. I breathed a huge sigh of relief that I had pulled up the covers to hide his naughty bits. I couldn’t even imagine what McGonagall would say if she found me alone with a fully nude Headmaster.

“I’m sorry I missed the Transfiguration lesson this morning. I just wanted to be here when he woke up to give him his next doses of potion…” I called across the room to her. I hovered awkwardly in the corner by the fireplace, picking at my cuticles, unsure what to do with myself.

McGonagall cast a few diagnostic spells, muttering and nodding to herself. Then she gently prodded his ribs and nose, checking my handiwork. “Well done, Miss Granger. You would make an excellent healer,” she finally spoke after a few minutes. “It’s perfectly fine that you missed class. You mastered object-to-animal transfiguration years ago anyway. I’ll let Professors Sinistra, Tonks, and Sprout know you’ll be out of their lessons today as well.”

“Thanks, Professor,” I said, hesitating a minute before asking, “Did the portraits tell you about him being injured?”

“Yes. They informed me last night while you were still in the process of dragging him up here.”

I wondered why she didn’t come straight up last night- or at least send Madame Pomfrey. As if she could read my thoughts, “I knew you could handle it, Miss Granger, and I would’ve just gotten in your way. I am well aware that you took care of him plenty of times last year. Not much goes on in this castle that I don’t know about, my dear. When he suddenly stopped showing up in the hospital wing twice a month, Poppy and I easily figured out what was going on. Clearly he prefers _your_ bedside manner...” she trailed off, giving me a thoughtful look.

My heart was pounding so loudly I worried irrationally that she could hear it from all the way across the bedroom. _Does she know?! It sure seems like she does! But she doesn’t seem pissed off, so she can’t_ **_possibly_ ** _know... She would be absolutely livid, and I would be expelled already!_ I just shrugged vaguely, at a total loss for words.

The Professor was already striding back down the staircase when Severus began to stir. I darted over to kneel at his bedside before I even thought about what it would look like to her. His hands groped along the bedspread, obviously searching for something. He reached towards me, and his fingers brushed across my cheek. “Her…” he groaned.

“Shh… I’m here…” I whispered to him soothingly. With a great effort, he dragged open his eyelids to look at me.

“Hermione…” He raised his palsied hand again, tangling his fingers into my hair. His black eyes were opaque with misery.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“No… not safe. You’re not safe,” he croaked.

McGonagall hurried over at his words, urgently demanding that Severus explain himself.

“Dementors… He’s sending them tonight… I have to let them in…”

“But why?! Why didn’t you refuse?!” the witch snapped furiously.

“I **did** refuse,” he looked at us meaningfully, sheer misery written across his face.

I let out a little whimper of dismay before I could catch myself. McGonagall just shook her head. His hand was still buried in my hair, which made me very nervous. But it quickly became clear that the three of us had reached a silent agreement not to address the elephant in the room.

“Quidditch pitch… During Potter’s practice…”

“Why now?!” I asked hurriedly.

“Halloween... When he lost his body. Thinks Potter should... lose his soul same day.”

“But why Dementors?! Why not just send a bunch of Death Eaters? Or come kill him himself? It doesn’t make any sense!” McGonagall demanded.

“Harry is sensitive to Dementors,” I replied quietly. “Plus his wand somehow fought off You-Know-Who all by itself this summer. I’ll bet anything that He is scared to death of facing Harry again. And if Harry was kissed by a Dementor he wouldn’t be able to use his magic, or even have any desire to fight back anymore. You-Know-Who would be able to crush him like a bug!”

Severus simply nodded in agreement with my assessment.

“Damnit,” McGonagall cursed.

“What are we going to do?!” I asked, desperately looking back and forth between the two authority figures.

“I’ll warn Potter immediately. Severus has no choice but to let them in the gates. Voldemort will kill him if he refuses again.”

“Like half of the Quidditch team was in Dumbledore’s Army. We all know how cast corporeal Patronuses. We can fight them off.”

“ **Absolutely** **not**. I’m not endangering any more of my students than I have to,” she shook her head vigorously.

“Well you won’t be able to get rid of Ron, Ginny, or me. We won’t leave Harry alone to face them,” I asserted gravely.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes in an exhausted sort of way. “I would expect nothing less, Miss Granger. I will be there as well. Severus can’t cast a corporeal patronus, but he can still help fend them off somewhat. Between the six of us, we should be able to take down a few dozen of the bastards.”

McGonagall took her leave of us then, rushing off to teach her next lesson. I dosed Severus with more Skele-Gro and Blood Replenishing Potion, as well as my special Cruciatus Potion. I rearranged his pillows and helped him lie down before climbing back into bed with him. I pressed against his side, hugging him tightly to myself.

After a few minutes of loaded silence I cautiously inquired, “You can’t cast a corporeal Patronus? How is that even possible? Your spells are always so powerful.”

He opened his eyes, twisting his neck with a painful grimace to look at me. “I can cast one. I chose to let the rest of the Order believe that I can’t.”

“But why?”

“You know how you’re supposed to think of your happiest memory?”

“Yeah…” I swallowed hard as a sob threatened to well up in the back of my throat. I could already guess what he was about to say.

“As you know, until recently, I only had a tiny handful of happy memories in my entire life. And they all revolved around one person…” he whispered, apparently hoping that saying it quietly would lessen the devastating impact on me.

“And you didn’t want the Order to know that you loved her... You do realize that you’re always trying to hide the best parts of yourself?” I said with an attempt at nonchalance that sounded false even to my own ears.

He just scoffed at me in response. I kissed him and told him to get some sleep, and he drifted off after just a couple minutes. After a few hours of lying next to him and stewing on what Lily’s patronus was, I took a small swallow of Sleeping Draught from his cabinet, stealing myself a couple blessed hours of rest before the insanity began.

 

Severus had recovered enough to lurch painfully down to the Halloween feast around 7 PM. I helped him down the hundreds of stairs, but we carefully staggered our arrivals into the Hall. I had just slid in between Harry and Ginny on the bench when he entered the doors. The change in his gait was jarring. Whereas before he had been leaning heavily on my shoulder, now he traipsed across the floor with a measured confidence that utterly belied his discomfort. I was pretty sure I was the only one who noticed the relieved grimace when he dropped into his chair in the center of the Head Table.

McGonagall immediately leaned over to whisper in his ear. She piled vegetables and roast chicken onto his plate as she spoke. I smiled to myself, pleased to have someone else helping me take care of him. I wished desperately that I could lip-read. They were obviously reviewing the plan for tonight.

Once I had made my plate and started to eat, Ginny leaned over to mutter quietly to me, “McGonagall already talked to us about tonight. Harry is weirdly excited about it. I think he’s been feeling a bit like a caged animal lately.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah, I think two months is the longest he’s ever gone without detention!” I teased, trying to hide how terrified I was.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, bumping me playfully with his shoulder.

“Blimey, this shit’s fucked up,” Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I just thought I’d get to relax this semester. I didn’t know I’d have to fight a few dozen dementors. Usually crazy shit doesn’t happen until the END of the year!” We all cracked up, completely giddy with anxious energy.

“Hey, at least we have forewarning. We have time to prepare for **once** in our lives!” I commented.

“Yeah, everyone have seconds of the chocolate cake!” Harry quipped.

We passed the rest of dinner like that- messing around in a desperate attempt to keep our fear at bay. Harry walked up and down the Gryffindor table, telling the Quidditch team he was canceling practice that night because he and Ron had huge papers due in the morning that they had procrastinated way too long. The team took the piss out of the boys, mocking them for being such total fuck-ups. Harry and Ron just shrugged, laughing at themselves convincingly.

The four of us left the hall and loitered by the front doors until no one was around, then slipped out unobserved. We jogged to the Quidditch pitch and got dressed in Gryffindor kits in complete silence. We waited until 8, then proceeded out of the changing room in a funeral line.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for us in the middle of the pitch, dressed in referee robes. We mounted our brooms, floating up into the sky as she released the balls. Ginny and Ron tossed around a quaffle half-heartedly. Harry darted around, feigning a search for the snitch. I just hovered by the eastern goalposts, desperately trying not to fall off my broom.

Twenty minutes dragged by, each one seeming to last longer than the one before. Finally, a sharp burst from McGonagall’s whistle alerted our attention to the dark cloud heading our way on the southern horizon. From our vantage point way up in the air, we had a perfect view of Severus’s tiny black-clad figure approaching the gates. A man in Death Eater robes strode up the lane from the direction of Hogsmeade, followed closely by an enormous, swirling mass of black mist. Some sort of barrier spell had been erected to keep them in an orderly group, and presumably, to protect the Death Eater from their effects.

The gates swung open at a wave of Severus’s right arm. The misty barrier collapsed, and Dementors streamed onto the grounds in countless numbers. “FUCK!” I heard Ron bellow from across the arena. My three friends rocketed off towards the dark creatures, followed closely by McGonagall. I puttered after them, unable to will myself to go any faster on the accursed broom. After a few minutes, I simply dropped to the ground and climbed off. I sprinted across the grounds on foot, leaving the damned thing behind.

When I reached the crest of a large hill, the battle spread out before me. My friends were nothing but streaks of scarlet as they dodged and weaved through the clouds of Dementors. They cast Patronuses in every direction, and dozens of stags, terriers, cats, and horses galloped around, sending Dementors fleeing. Cloaked figures were dissolving into nothingness all around, utterly decimated by the powerful Patronuses. Severus and the person I now recognized as Selwyn were duelling furiously, casting one Unforgivable Curse after another.

I sprinted towards the men, lungs burning for oxygen and leg muscles crying out in protest. Severus noticed me running down the hill towards them, and began to carefully maneuver Selwyn’s back to me. I adjusted my course, rounding a small copse of Privet to keep out of the Death Eater’s field of vision.

When the fight came back into view, the tide seemed to have turned against us. Severus looked much worse for wear, clearly struggling to stay on his feet. His injuries hadn’t healed anywhere near enough for him to be in such a furious duel for his life.

I immediately knew what I had to do. The Death Eater couldn’t be allowed to kill him. I put on a final burst of speed, making it within 50 meters of them. Suddenly, Severus collapsed, taken down by a full-body bind. I skidded to a halt, whipping my wand out in front of me. “AVADA KEDAVRA!!!” I bellowed at the top of my voice. The man only had a split-second to look over his shoulder and glimpse his impending doom speeding towards him. His face was frozen in a rictus of horror as the corpse slumped to the ground.

I struggled for air as I jogged the last little distance to my lover’s body. I cast the counter-spell, and his rigid limbs slumped onto the ground. I fell to the dead grass beside him, heedless of the battle still raging around us. I pointed my wand at him, “Ennervate!” I cried, and his eyes flew open. “Are you okay? Did you re-injure anything?” I demanded. He shook his head muzzily, looking at me in a daze.

“Severus, say something! Are you hurt?!” I asked again, roughly shaking him by the shoulders.

Suddenly, his bleary eyes focused on something over my shoulder. I spun around on my knees, holding my wand out with a shaky, “Expecto patronum!”. Nothing.

“Expecto patronum!” The tiniest wisp of white spluttered out of my wand.

_Fuck! The Killing Curse took too much out of me!! What am I going to do??!!_

The half-dozen Dementors were closing in on us, and I felt fingers of icy cold tightening around my heart. _What do I do?! What do I do?!_ I thought frantically as sheer panic overtook my mind.

They were a mere half-dozen meters away now. My head was a fog, no longer able to string together coherent thoughts. Images flashed through my mind’s eye...

Severus’s mangled body lying in his tub the previous night...

The dark stream of blood staining the backs of his thighs the night Bellatrix raped him...

The livid expression on his face the night I found out about Lily and threw him out of Grimmauld Place…

The night of the Seven Potters, when his wand failed and I had to kill for him…

I could hear his voice in my head, but far more terrible and cold than I had ever heard it in reality, “I don’t love you. I never have. I just wanted to fuck a hot young thing. And now I have. So I’m done with you…” I began to weep wretchedly, utterly sapped of all hope and joy.

The lead Dementor bent over my kneeling form.

It was so cold I could see my breath forming ice crystals in the air.

The creature lowered its hood, revealing the most horrible thing I had ever seen- a lip-less, gaping, sucking hole, lined all the way around with jagged yellow things that only vaguely resembled teeth.

It had no eyes.

No nose.

Nothing on its face but that enormous, terrible hole.

Its scabby hands grabbed me, tilting my head back as it lowered its mouth to mine in a repulsive caricature of affection.

A fine, multi-colored mist began to stream from my nose and mouth…

 

Suddenly, a brilliant flash of white light.

A slim, elongated figure barreled straight through the Dementor, shattering it into a million wisps of smoke. The glowing animal gamboled about, easily destroying the other creatures that bore down on us. It was a blur as it flitted through the air, chasing away every other Dementor in our immediate vicinity.

I scrambled up and spun around to see Severus climbing painfully to his feet, wand in hand. I reached for his free arm, wrapping it around my shoulder to keep him steady. He barely even looked at me; his eyes were locked on his patronus as it spun around in a tight loop-de-loop and headed back in our direction.

My eyes burned with tears as the little otter danced gracefully around our heads.

My heart sang.

My soul felt lighter than it had in a year.

I pointed my wand at the fight still being waged a hundred meters above our heads. The Patronus burst out of my wand so easily that I barely even had to think about it.

The two charms greeted one another like long-lost lovers, diving and twirling around each other joyfully before barreling off together to join the fight.

The couple-dozen remaining Dementors dissipated within seconds. All told, the battle had lasted barely more than ten minutes.

My friends dove to the ground where Severus and I stood. We still had our arms wrapped tightly around each other- the only thing keeping us on our feet was the support of the other one. Most of the Patronuses had disappeared along with the threat, but the two little otters seemed unwilling to go. We all watched the two figures playing together for a long time before they finally faded into the evening sky.

The six of us made eye-contact for the first time, and I was struck dumb by the wide variety of expressions around me. Ginny’s eyes were absolutely glowing, and she had a huge grin on her face. Harry looked floored; his jaw hung open stupidly. McGonagall looked vaguely interested but mostly exhausted. Ron, however, was the textbook illustration of bitterness. His face was even redder than his hair. His lips moved wordlessly. His eyes flickered back and forth between me and Severus, so quickly that it had to be making him nauseous.

“You… He…” he finally gasped furiously.

“Ron…” I began to speak, reaching out for him with my free hand.

He let out a deranged, animalistic scream, pointing his wand shakily at Severus. “You… You... You fucking pervert! You fucking… paedophile!!!”

“Ron, don’t!” Ginny cried out, reaching for his wand arm.

But before she could stop him, Ron bellowed, “CRUCIO!!”

The curse did nothing, just impotently glanced off Severus’s chest. But the damage was already done.

His face crumpled as he came to the realization that he had just tried to cast an Unforgivable on the Hogwarts Headmaster. He grabbed his broomstick, throwing his leg over it and rising into the air. He shot off towards the gates, and was through them in seconds.

Harry had started to climb on his Firebolt to give chase, but Ginny ripped the broom out of his hands. “No fucking way, Harry! You’re not leaving the school grounds! It’s way too dangerous out there!”

Ron’s figure popped out of view as he disapparated on the far side of the gates. Professor McGonagall flicked her wand towards them, and they locked with a resounding slam. I was in a state of total disbelief. I couldn’t even process what was happening. After a few moments of awkward silence, McGonagall commanded me and Severus to go straight to the hospital wing. Lacking the energy to argue, we did as we were told.

I looked over my shoulder as we limped away- Ginny, Harry, and McGonagall had their heads close together, whispering urgently to each other. I asked Severus if we were going to be kicked out. He could only shrug silently. It was out of our hands now.


	32. Keep Talking (Severus)

Hermione and I were awakened the next morning by Madame Pomfrey coughing pointedly and clearing her throat from outside the door to the Hospital Wing. Hermione leapt out of my bed and sprinted down the aisle to her own cot, hospital gown flapping noisily behind her. She had just thrown the blankets over herself when the double doors swung open.

I watched jealously as Hermione savored her prescribed morning cup of rich hot cocoa. I could barely choke down my own doses of Skele-Gro, Blood Replenishing Potion, and Strengthening Solution.

Poppy quickly took her leave of us, patting each of us affectionately on the head like we were nothing more than a couple of first-years with the sniffles. She closed her office door, and we heard her casting a Silencio on it. Hermione immediately hopped out of bed, returning to cuddle up next to me. She nestled her head into my shoulder, and we were both asleep again within seconds.

I was startled back into consciousness an hour later by the distinct feeling that I was being watched. I flew into a sitting position, yanking my wand out of my sleeve. I leveled it at the figure seated placidly in a wooden chair at my bedside. I meekly tucked it away as my bleary eyes made out the pointy-hatted silhouette of Minerva McGonagall. She raised a single amused eyebrow at me as I apologized.

Hermione had miraculously managed to sleep through my freak-out, so I slipped out of the bed and indicated Minerva should follow me to the far end of the wing. I remained standing, rather unsteadily, desperate to maintain some semblance of confidence and authority. “Morning, Professor McGonagall,” I said sternly, fixing my face into an expression of steely disconcern.

“Afternoon, Severus,” she smirked at me, obviously seeing right through my act.

We stood there in silence for a long time; I watched her cautiously as she continued smiling at me benignly. My pulse pounded in my throat. My stomach churned violently, threatening to spill its meager contents all over the floor.

She finally took pity on me and broke the silence, “Calm down, Severus. You’re going to give yourself a damn coronary. You still have a job.”

I could only manage to choke out a single word, “Why?!”

“I have my reasons. The Order needs you in charge of Hogwarts, for one. Plus I’m not going to ruin my class Valedictorian’s future. She’s of age, and it’s quite obvious she hasn’t been coerced,” she rattled off blithely.

“How are you so calm about this?!” I spluttered in disbelief.

She chuckled, patting me on the cheek. “Honestly, Severus! You’re not as sneaky as you think you are. I’ve known about this for months!”

My jaw fell open. I let out a series of incoherent syllables.

“I first began to suspect something was going on when you stopped coming to Poppy for treatment for your injuries. Then when Miss Granger came to me for help with that horrible task Albus had given you… I knew you wouldn’t have confided in her unless you had very profound trust in her. And on the night you faked Albus’s death, when she refused a direct order from me, I realized that her dedication to you was equally steadfast. And all those days you two spent alone at Grimmauld Place this summer, her casting the Killing Curse to save you, the lipstick in your beard plus staring at her the entire wedding reception… You really haven’t been all that careful.”

I scratched irritably at my three-day scruff, muttering, “I suppose when you lay it all out like that… Yeah, I did a terrible job hiding it. Does everyone know?!”

“Oh, no. Just me and Poppy. And I think Professor Tonks suspects something from the way she talks about the two of you, like you’re a single unit or something, but she has never said anything outright.”

“Why are you doing this?" I couldn’t help but ask. "I would think you’d be champing at the bit to throw me out on my ass for violating your prize Gryffindor!” 

“I don’t talk about this often, but I was once married to a much-older wizard- my former boss as a matter of fact. And in my youth, I was the victim of forbidden love with a muggle. It would be hypocritical of me to condemn you for doing nothing more than following your heart. You deserve to be happy after everything you’ve sacrificed for the Order. And if there’s anyone who can take care of herself in a relationship with an older man- it’s Hermione Granger. She would be bored to tears by a boy her own age. Plus you’re so immature I can never seem to shake the feeling that you’re still a teenager yourself…” she teased me with a warm smile.

I began to thank her a number of times, but stopped myself, unable to find the right thing to say. Finally, I wondered aloud, “What are we going to do about the Weasley boy? He won’t go to the Burrow because Molly would send him right back to Hogwarts. And a bunch of Order members are hunkered down at Grimmauld Place... He’s going to try to get a room at the Leaky Cauldron or something and get himself killed in the process.”

“So you’re not expelling him?!” she asked, brows raised in surprise.

“Of course not. He didn’t really mean the curse. It was just a moment of idiocy fuelled by heartbreak. Merlin knows _I_ can’t condemn someone for that.”

“You’re a good man, Severus Snape,” Minerva whispered, shocking me by pulling me into a tight hug. I awkwardly patted her on the back for a few seconds before she released me. “Now get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”

My arm seared with cold fire some twelve hours later. I couldn’t make it across the castle to my quarters, so I was still dressed in my wrinkled teacher’s robes when I collapsed painfully in the Malfoys’ Ballroom. My broken kneecap screamed in agony as I knelt on the polished hardwood before Him. I could feel the fury rolling off Him in waves. The air was thick with the smell of fear as Lucius, Rowle, Bellatrix, and myself kept perfectly silent.

“How is it that this pathetic assemblage is all I have left of my once-powerful Lieutenants?” He whispered venomously.

“My Lord…” Bellatrix began to speak, but let out a screech of terror as Nagini reared up and snapped her jaws shut mere centimeters from the tip of the witch’s nose.

“I am well aware you’re going to argue I should not have replaced your dearly-departed husband with your brother-in-law. I don’t need to hear you repeat yourself for the hundredth time, thank you very much, Bellatrix…” he drawled with affected boredom. “I have so few servants I can trust anymore. My secrets are being leaked left and right, but my probes can find no source. How do you suppose this is happening, Thorfinn?”

The man’s voice shook only slightly as he recited to the ground, “I do not know, My Lord. Somehow our targets are receiving forewarning. Tonight was the fifth time we’ve entered an empty house…”

“And Severus, how is it that none of the victims of your torture seem to have informed their parents of their trauma? The elder Lovegood, Wiggleswade, Strop, and Jorkins are going on as if nothing has changed.”

“I do not know, my lord. Perhaps the children don’t want to be forced to leave school? Or they couldn’t manage to put it in writing? Or they cast memory charms on themselves?” I rambled, knowing that an outward show of fear would stroke the Dark Lord’s ego.

“And how did a handful of children manage to fight off a hundred Dementors and kill a senior Death Eater?”

“Potter’s skill with a wand is truly impressive, my lord. One of the best duelists I’ve seen in my time. His friends are nearly as powerful,” I lied through my teeth. _The more scared he is of Harry, the longer he’ll hold off on a full-frontal attack._

The confident sneer on the Dark Lord’s face broke somewhat, but he quickly stifled his reaction. “This is absolutely unacceptable. I’m done playing these games. You must kill him as he lies asleep in his bed, Severus,” he announced with finality in his tone. A scream erupted below our feet, and I could distinguish the unique timbre of Ron Weasley’s voice. “WORMTAIL! How many times have I told you to keep our guests quiet?!”

Lucius broke in, voice soothing and confident, “My Lord, surely you don’t mean that? There is no way Severus could pull off such a feat! He’d be captured before he even made it out of Gryffindor tower. The Deputy Headmistress would take over immediately, and we would lose control of Hogwarts! You know better than anyone that we cannot make such an enormous sacrifice for one idiotic boy!!!”

“Yes, My Lord. And with my ability to manipulate his one remaining friend, it’s only a matter of time before I can get him to you alone and undefended,” I said with a bloodthirsty leer.

“Yes, about that…” the Dark Lord sneered. “Clearly this girl has been a distraction for you, Severus. You are to cease contact with her immediately. If nearly dying four days ago didn’t convince you to focus on your priorities, perhaps this will… Your heart has always been your one point of weakness. It’s obvious you’ve developed feelings for the little mudblood. They’re written all over your mind.”

“Please, My Lord,” I begged. “Please don’t ask that of me. Anything but that.” My mind raced, coming to the same conclusion every time. There was only one way forward: “I can convert her! I know I can. She is full of darkness, My Lord. Look into my memories! You’ll see it to be true! She’s already cast the Killing Curse twice. She is far more brilliant than her peers. She thirsts for knowledge. For power.”

Bellatrix cackled, “Hah! In what universe would the Dark Lord accept a **mudblood** into his ranks, Snivellus?! AAGGGHHHH!!!!” She screeched in agony as He flicked his wand towards her, casting a casual, off-handed Crucio.

“Enough of that.” He locked his eyes on mine and _dove_ … 

I showed him dozens of memories as the minutes ticked by-

Hermione murdering His Death Eaters,

Hermione admitting that she felt no guilt afterwards,

Hermione brewing the deadly and torturous poisons He had asked me to make,

Hermione taking the reins the first time we had sex,

Hermione’s arousal from my degrading words,

Hermione begging me for more as I spanked her,

Hermione hunched over her desk, utterly absorbed in a book of powerful dark magic,

Hermione asking me dozens of questions about the intricacies of certain curses,

Hermione arguing with Harry and Ron about their ignorance…

On and on and on until, finally, blessedly, he pulled out of me.

I spoke immediately, “You can see her steadfast dedication to me, My Lord. She feels superior to everyone around her. She can barely stand to be around anyone but me. I could convince her to join us. I know I can.”

The wizard’s waxen face was unreadable as he gazed down at me. I went on, “It would be a crippling blow to the Potter boy- to see his best friend join his greatest enemy. It would be a devastation so terrible he could never return from it!” Weasley screamed again from the cellar, but the noise was quickly stifled by a jinx from Pettigrew.

Lucius cut in, “I believe Severus is correct, My Lord. Draco says that the Potter boy’s one and only strength is his friends. He apparently wouldn’t have made it through his first year without the help of that Granger girl. She is an invaluable resource to him. I don’t think we can overstate the devastation such a blow would cause."

I was floored when Rowle agreed, “What they say makes sense, Master. I was in the Department of Mysteries on the day we lost the Prophecy. If he hadn’t been flanked by all those brats, it would have gone quite differently. I think this is our only hope to cripple him.”

My heart felt like it could burst out of my chest at any moment. It was all I could do to keep my desperate hope in check.

Finally...

 

after ten long minutes of loaded silence...

 

not a single sound to be heard besides the ticking of the enormous grandfather clock in the corner…

 

“Very well. You may attempt to convert her to our side, Severus. If you fail, however…” he trailed off, letting the threat of my inevitable death hang in the air unspoken.

I scrambled forward, kissing the hem of his robes over and over again, “Thank you, My Lord, thank you. My heart overflows with love for you, My Lord. You are kind, and just, and merciful. **Long live the Dark Lord**!” I cried, and the other Lieutenants echoed me as I crawled back to my spot in line. We continued this chant until he finally waved us off, and we scrambled out of the room as fast as our hands and knees could carry us.


	33. The Breeze (Hermione)

The “end” of my public friendship with Harry was a drawn-out, intensely planned affair- orchestrated in concert by myself, Harry, and Severus. We had been friends for six years, so it would take weeks of fights, pointed silences, resolutions, and new fights to seed the final breakup. A huge, carefully rehearsed fight in the Great Hall was the final nail in the coffin of our friendship.

We had weaved a complete narrative over the last month and a half- beginning with Ron running away because he had tried and failed to make a move on me. When I refused him, he blamed it on my supposed secret feelings for Harry. This is the same story we fed Mrs. Weasley, unable to face the prospect of telling her the truth- that her son had tried to Crucio the Headmaster and ran away, getting himself captured by Death Eaters within minutes of entering the Leaky Cauldron.

We went on to expand this narrative, making it seem like we each blamed one another for Ron’s continued absence. We had a number of very public fights about this, with Ginny constantly being stuck in the middle. She refused to give up her relationship with Harry or her friendship with me, so she had to be seen trying to mediate our rehearsed fights.

Luckily, we were able to continue to hang out in secret- hidden away in the Room of Requirement or my bedroom. Towards the end of November, Severus blew me away with the kind gesture of changing the wards on his private lab, making it so that Ginny and Harry could enter. If he came in, they had to leave immediately without a word. But he didn’t mind how much time they spent there with me as long as they were supervised and touched **absolutely** **nothing**. It was nice having them to keep me company as he was increasingly busy with tasks for the Dark Lord.

His dedication was constantly being tested. He’d had to take part in a handful of raids- the type of grunt work he was usually excused from by virtue of his position in the Inner Circle. He had a huge breakdown in early December after being forced to watch Fenrir Greyback rape and maul a squib girl who had apparently looked just like me. He fell into such an acute depression that he could barely get out of bed for over a week. As a result, McGonagall and I had to take turns goading and bribing him to get up every morning.

The whole thing was exhausting. As if I hadn’t already been doing enough sneaking around in my relationship... Having to sneak around just to talk to my best friend was really wearing on me. The only thing that seemed capable of restoring my sanity were the transcendent moments Severus and I spent alone together. Our incredible lovemaking was now invariably tender and affectionate, completely lacking all the violence we’d shared previously. Severus seemed physically repulsed by the idea of hurting me- as if he were desperately trying to preserve my innocence for the last few moments that he could manage it.

I worked through the Five Stages of Grief as I came to terms with the idea of becoming a Death Eater. I would be lying if I said that it hadn’t crossed my mind before that getting involved with Severus might result in such a thing. That didn’t make my denial any less powerful, however. When I finally realized that He truly intended me to take the Dark Mark, I spent days ranting furiously about the Dark Lord. Harry, Ginny, and Severus sat patiently through my dozens of outbursts, calmly assuring me that we’d find some way around it, that there was no possible way I was becoming a Death Eater.

I spent weeks reasoning through how I might get out of it: _Maybe we could defeat him before the time comes?_

_No, we don’t even know where ANY of the Horcruxes are._

_Maybe He’ll change his mind and let Severus keep seeing me anyway?_

_No, the only way I could prove where my true loyalties lie is to join his ranks._

_Maybe He’ll decide he doesn’t want a mudblood as a Death Eater?_

_No, Severus told me there’s a ton of half-bloods and muggle-borns among his peers. The Dark Lord just keeps it quiet. If he was so picky as to only take pure-bloods, his ranks would be pathetically tiny. The old pureblood families have been decimated to practically nothing by now._

By the time a December blizzard blanketed Hogwarts with snow, I was deep in a spiralling melancholia. Severus’s and my individual depressions had been feeding into each other’s in a truly horrific way. Before, we’d always had the other one to drag us out of our harmful circular thought patterns. Now we would fall into them together- endlessly enumerating all the various and sundry ways we were thoroughly and completely fucked.

 

But then Severus convinced me to drop acid with him on December 16th. What followed was the single most transformative experience of my entire life. We spent nearly the entire twelve hour trip deep in conversation- exploring everything from the nature of reality, to the circularity of time, to the cosmic perspective.

I realized that in comparison to everything that was wrong in the world- the struggles that people had to face every day, the death and destruction, the callousness of humanity- my worries were really nothing.

My fears, my self-pity, my constant cries of “why me?!” were ridiculous. I was making myself a martyr to caution. Pretending like it was noble to be afraid.

But Severus had faced this monster with a steady gaze for decades. If he could do it, I damn well could.

_In the grand scheme of things, what do my own foibles and morals matter? If I must do evil for the greater good, then I must. I have already been responsible for the deaths of four men. What are a few more?_

It was surprisingly easy to become coldly logical about these things. _A few dozen deaths versus a few thousand. Who wouldn’t make the same choice?_

_Few wizards possess the internal discipline required to fatally curse another human._

_I am one of those wizards._

_What makes me think I’m too good for it?_

_Too good to make the same sacrifice that Severus has made over and over again- hurting his own soul to protect others from the same fate?_

_What makes ME too good to perform harmful acts in service of the greater good?_

_Too good to make those hard decisions that I will always be condemned for?_

Because there really is no such thing as good and evil. Just people making decisions. Sometimes those decisions hurt others. Sometimes those decisions help others. Mostly they do both at the same time. It is only a person’s individual perspective that determines whether “good” or “evil” has been done.

I was utterly floored by this revelation when it came, and spent over an hour expounding on it to Severus. My words seemed to go straight to the heart of him, and I could swear he looked ten years younger by the time we woke up the morning after our trip. The lines of strain around his mouth and between his eyebrows had softened significantly. He stood taller and straighter than he ever had.

I supposed that my acceptance had allowed him to finally come to terms with everything as well. His mind had been clouded by guilt for a year. Now I had proven that our coldly logical approaches to life were more similar than he had anticipated. In some weird way, he could only just now finally begin to trust me. He had always expected me to turn tail and run as soon as our relationship made difficult, unspeakable demands of me.

The night of the Seven Potters, the first time I had killed for him, had set him down this long, winding path to acceptance. The second time I did it was further reinforcement. But it was only my reasoned explanation of why my own personal ethics were secondary to the greater good that finally convinced him.

To Severus, the intention behind a person’s actions had always been far more important than the actions themselves. When you’ve lived a life as chock full of moral bargaining and self-loathing as him, you tend to develop some pretty skewed perspectives.

Severus and I enjoyed the final hours of our acid trip on top of the Astronomy Tower. We were seated on a blanket with a warming charm placed on it, and I was cozily wrapped in Severus’s cloak while we watched the stars swirling and undulating above us. I swore I could see constellations with my bare eyes that I had only been able to spot with the help of a telescope before. I thought my mind was deceiving me for a long time as I watched a black void in the stars growing larger and larger. I let out a screech of surprise as the light spilling through the open doorway illuminated the ruddy plumage of an eagle owl as it hurtled towards us.

The kingly bird alighted silently on Severus’s shoulder, holding in its beak a roll of parchment with the most elaborate gold wax seal I’d ever seen in my life. Severus held the letter in front of me and read it over my shoulder as the owl flapped silently back into the night.

 

 

> My Dearest Severus,
> 
> I write to you tonight with the strongest sense of urgency I can possibly impart in text. Your girl is in immediate danger. The Dark Lord and Rowle have hatched a plot that they are concealing from you for reasons that will be immediately apparent…
> 
> The plan is to hijack the Hogwarts Express as it carries the students home for Christmas holiday. They intend to take Potter and your girl, as well as a number of other valuable individuals.
> 
> He knows you would never allow this to happen due to the public outcry and backlash you’ll suffer. But he’s going through with it nevertheless. I don’t believe it’s possible to overstate how angry he is with you, Severus. I am quite certain that if you didn’t occupy such an invaluable post, you’d have been dead five times over by now.
> 
> I bring this up to make obvious the fact that you ABSOLUTELY CANNOT prevent this attack from happening. Draco was the only person who noted the children’s absence from the train in September, and he wisely refrained from informing the Dark Lord about it. But now we have had that option removed. If the children aren’t on the train, he’ll know word of the attack was leaked to you.
> 
> I assume you know the story of Coventry in World War II? The Allies had learned of the upcoming bombing of Coventry by decoding the Germans' cryptography. But they couldn’t tip their hand so quickly and let the Germans know they had already figured out their newest code. So Churchill made the ruthless decision to allow the city to be leveled. You must do the same. If Potter and Granger are to escape the Death Eaters’ clutches, it must be done under their own steam.
> 
> Please heed my advice, old friend. I’m sure you realize that I am putting my own ass very much on the line by telling you this. I shudder to think what will happen to me if the Dark Lord finds out that I’m the one who’s been leaking all his plans.
> 
> Your partner in exhaustion,
> 
> Lucius

 

“Well, shit…” I cursed, then cracked up at myself for Merlin-knows-what reason.

“Indeed…” Severus sighed. He didn’t seem nearly as upset as I had expected.

“Don’t worry. Harry and I will be fine. We can take down a couple lame-o Death Eaters, no problem. It’s the other students I’m concerned about.”

“Don’t you two go trying to be heroes, do you understand me?!” he commanded sternly. “I know how you and Potter get… You can’t save everyone, got it? Just get your asses off that train alive and apparate away. Don’t even look back.”

I craned my neck around and started to argue, but he silenced me with a mind-meltingly hot kiss. His tongue plunged into my mouth aggressively, and before I knew what was happening, he had shoved me onto my back on the blanket. Broken flagstones dug into my back, but the LSD dulled the pain significantly.

His hands were all over me, ripping open the front of my robes with little heed for my comfort in the freezing cold December night. He pulled up my sweater and covered my stomach and breasts with dozens of burning kisses.

I was sore from the nearly half-dozen times we had already made love that day, but my body responded to his touch as faithfully as always.

He yanked off my leggings and underwear in one go, completely ignoring my protestations, “Severus, wait! It’s below zero out here! What’s wrong with you?!”

Without even realizing I was doing it, my hands had undone his belt and were halfway done unbuttoning his fly. He finished my job, yanking out his cock with an urgency that looked painful. He lowered himself between my legs, thrusting into me with no further formalities.

He pounded me mercilessly...

Every meeting of our bodies brought a pained squeak from my throat...

He fucked me harder than he had in a month, utterly dispensing with the facade of gentle, kind, considerate lover…

One of his hands was buried in my hair, yanking on it hard enough to force me to arch my neck in pain. The other was wrapped tightly around my hip, barely managing to keep the force of his fucking from pushing me across the flagstone floor…

“Yeah… That’s it… Make it hurt… Oh yeahhhh…” I groaned, tossing my head around deliriously as the myriad sensations flooding my body overwhelmed my tripping mind…

Severus began to grunt rhythmically, and I knew he must be nearing completion. He suddenly pulled out of me, using his death-grip on my hip to deftly roll me over onto my stomach. I arched my hips into the air on pure instinct…

I had only a split second to be nervous as I felt the head of his cock pressing insistently against my tightest hole…

He was well-lubricated, and I was extremely relaxed, so the first inch of him slid into me with little-to-no effort…

But then my delirious mind caught up to what was happening, and my muscles tightened in panic…

I screamed in agony at the same moment that Severus let out an enormous moan. The contractions of my seizing muscles put him right over the edge. He shouted a series of curses as I endured the humiliating sensation of his hot spunk filling my rectum.

When he pulled out of me, only a couple of minutes had passed since the arrival of the letter, but I felt like something had irretrievably changed between us. I had always been like a porcelain doll to him- breakable, pure, innocent, unblemished. But now he was being forced to put me directly in harm’s way... and he had done _that_ to me _…_

His face was guilty as he cast a pain-relief charm on my lower body and helped me back into my clothes. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. I got carried away… I only intended to…” he began to apologize, but I stifled him with a sloppy, aggressive snog. When I finally allowed him to catch his breath minutes later, I whispered, “Shut the fuck up, would ya?” and smirked up at him.

He glared at my cheeky expression for a long moment, but then his fingers were digging playfully into my ribs. I screamed and giggled uncontrollably under his assault. Before too long, he climbed to his feet and pulled me up with him. “Time for bed, naughty girl.”


	34. Close To Me (Severus)

Four days later, I found myself endlessly pacing the front hall of Grimmauld Place. My clothing was soaked with the sour-smelling cold sweat of anxiety, and I felt like I was on the verge of a heart attack at any moment. I had watched them departing Hogsmeade station over four hours ago, and I had been waiting impatiently in the old house since the Express had disappeared from my view.

I was at the far end of the hallway when I saw the tarnished lock begin to turn. I sprinted the ten meters to sweep Hermione into my arms the exact second the door swung open. I held her to my chest as she giggled and kicked her legs in playful protest. I barely took notice of Potter as he shut the door and squeezed around us to stand way down the hallway. He stared at the ceiling, wringing his gloved hands.

I finally set Hermione back on her feet and guided her by the hand downstairs to the kitchen. Potter just trailed after us silently. They pulled off their coats and settled themselves at the kitchen table as I ladled the potato soup I had made earlier into bowls for the three of us. I settled in a chair across from them and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

Hermione, reading my expression as deftly as always, launched into her story, “They didn’t try to take us until over three hours into the trip. I swear we were about to explode from all the pent-up adrenaline in our systems. They only sent five Death Eaters, and for some idiotic reason, Wormtail was one of them. We ran into him in the corridor as we were trying to sneak out...” She trailed off then, a troubled expression overtaking her fine-boned features.

Harry reached out to take her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze and picking up the trail of the story, “Well, I’m sure you’re aware that Wormtail owes me a Life Debt from that night I kept Sirius from killing him in the Shrieking Shack…”

I nodded my head in acknowledgement, and the conclusion sprang into my mind immediately. “And he owes one to Hermione too…” I whispered, spoon paused halfway to my mouth. Soup splattered everywhere as the utensil clattered into the bowl, forgotten as my shell-shocked mind worked through the logical progression of events.

Harry kept his expression cold, and only a bit of the scared little boy showed behind those familiar green eyes. His voice broke only once as he recounted, “He tried to point his wand at each of us in turn… But he couldn’t seem to force any words out… His face looked so guilty and scuh- scared… Then he began to lower his wand… But it fell out of his hand… You know, the silver one he got on the night in the graveyard when Cedric…” He seemed unable to go on.

Hermione’s eyes were steely when she finally looked up at me again and spoke, “The hand turned against him. It strangled him to death. It took **so long** before it was finally over. We tried to leave so many times… But for some reason we just _couldn’t_. Even though he was a disgusting, despicable pig... It just seemed like someone should be there to witness it, you know? Cause this is what the Dark Lord does when his most loyal servants show even a moment of empathy. He destroys them.”

I nodded mournfully, rubbing my burning eyes with the heels of my hands. “So you are both uninjured?” I asked.

“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure the Death Eaters didn’t succeed in nabbing any of their targets. The ones we saw as we ran down the train corridor looked to be having a pretty hard time of it. I think Vol- sorry, You-Know-Who severely underestimated what students with a semester of defense training from an auror are capable of. This clearly wasn’t the A-Team of baddies,” Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, thank the gods for small miracles,” I sighed as we resumed eating our dinner.

Things continued to be uncomfortable as the three of us cleaned the kitchen together in silence. Harry seemed to expect Hermione to go with him for the rest of the evening, but she trailed after me into the library. I heard him hesitate on the staircase for a long moment before proceeding upstairs by himself.

We settled on the couch in front of a roaring fire to read for a bit. She was so drained from the stress of the day that she fell asleep with her head in my lap, a mere six pages into the book she had started. She was so peaceful that I couldn’t bear to disturb her, and it was well after midnight when I finally cradled her in my arms and carried her into our bedroom. She didn’t stir even an inch as I tucked her under the quilt and gently lifted her head up to fluff her pillows.

I barely stifled a cry of alarm when I turned around and made out Potter silhouetted against the light streaming in from the library. I casually tucked away the wand that was in my hand, though I couldn’t remember drawing it. I pushed against the young man’s narrow chest, shoving him back into the library and quietly pulling the door shut behind us.

“Sorry, Professor,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact with me. “I just wanted to see if Hermione was coming up to bed soon… I was worried, I guess...”

“Miss Granger is perfectly safe,” I said in a clear tone of warning.

“Yeah… Yeah, I see that now. I didn’t realize… it was like _that…”_ he nodded his head towards the bedroom.

“Like **what** , Mister Potter?” I hissed dangerously.

He stared resolutely at my chest, clearly unable to meet my furious gaze. “You really love her. I saw how you carried her, the way you tucked her in. The look on your face…” he trailed off, blushing like a schoolboy.

Taken completely off guard, I couldn’t fathom how to respond.

“This doesn’t mean that I approve, mind you. Far from it. But now I know that this isn’t like, some kinda gross conquest for you. You really do love her, right?”

I nodded once, whispering three quiet syllables, “Very much.”

“Okay… okay,” he mumbled, then turned away stiffly. He practically ran as he took his leave of the library, stuttering out an awkward, “G’night,” as he slammed the door behind him.


	35. What Do You Go Home To? (Hermione)

The next few days passed with progressively less and less awkwardness. Harry was definitely still freaked out about seeing Severus and I behaving like a couple, but each day seemed easier for him to handle.

He and I were alone for most of the days leading up to Christmas Eve, as Severus had been called back to Hogwarts to deal with another Professor revolt. Many of them were demanding to be allowed to return to their families for Christmas, but this obviously couldn’t happen. So he was apparating around the country, collecting their immediate families, and delivering them to Hogwarts to spend the holiday in the castle with their loved ones. This was obviously a highly complicated process, involving all sorts of screening measures, observation periods (to ensure no one was taking regular doses of polyjuice), adjustments to the wards, creation of guest rooms, and Merlin only knows what else.

Harry and I were in the kitchen preparing a dinner of toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup from a tin when he finally got up enough nerve to ask me some questions. (The bottle of wine we had consumed on empty stomachs certainly seemed to have helped as well.)

“So, umm, ‘Mione… How long has this whole thing been going on?” he asked, gesturing around vaguely. His expression was one of intense discomfort, but I admired his resolve to pretend like this was a totally normal situation we were dealing with.

“I guess since around this time last year… But I had a crush on him for **years** before he ever thought of me in that way…” I replied carefully.

“Eww! You had a crush on greasy old Snape?!?!” he exclaimed before he could stop himself, but then covered his mouth in mortification.

I laughed hard, waving off the apology he tried to stutter out. “Hah! It’s fine, Harry. Seriously. And he’s not greasy _anymore-_ I guess he really loves his super fancy shower in the Headmaster’s suite, and he’s never been a dab hand at Cleansing Charms. And yeah, I had a HUGE crush on him. You’re a dude. You couldn’t possibly understand. Girls care about way more than looks. Although I do think he’s super hot, especially with facial hair…” I couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter at Harry’s disgusted expression.

“He didn’t like, pressure you into anything did he?”

“No, of course not! If anything, I was the one pressuring him the entire time! He’s just so freaking noble… It took months and months to get him to kiss me… And then we _couldn’t_ , because of the school wards… Let’s just say it was extremely frustrating,” I rambled, desperately trying not to blush.

“And how long did Ginny know about it?”

“Since Bill and Fleur’s wedding this summer. Severus had tried to end it between us for his typical noble BS reasons, and we got back together at the wedding. I guess watching me dancing with that dude was more than he could handle, and it broke his resolve. Ginny caught me sneaking into her bedroom, looking all a mess. She was able to figure it out pretty easily.”

“I cannot **believe** she didn’t tell me! I’m **still** fucking pissed at her about it!” Harry shook his head and frowned. “She never keeps secrets from me.”

I cracked up then, laughing uproariously at his stunned expression. “Oh, sweet innocent Harry! There’s SO MUCH Ginny hasn’t told you!!! Bless your little heart…” Tears were streaming down my face as he glared at me, and the giggles began anew.

“What else hasn’t she told me?!” he demanded.

“Oh my gods… SO FREAKING MUCH!!! Like, how many boys do you think Ginny has dated?”

“Three?”

“Oh, Harry…”

“What? Is it more than that?! How many?!?!”

“I can NOT tell you that. It’s none of my business, plus I’m not sure I can even name all of them anymore!” I wiped the tears from my cheeks with my shirtsleeve, taking deep breath after deep breath to try to calm my hysterics.

The pouty expression on his face made my best friend look just like a first-year again. I pulled him into a hug, patting his back bracingly. “Don’t worry, Harry. It doesn’t mean anything. She was just trying to protect your pride. Women have to do that for our men all the time. We know how delicate you are.”

“Hey! Fuck you!” Harry chuckled, shoving me away from him, and punching me playfully on the arm.

“What?! It’s true! We dance with a dude for three minutes, don’t even talk to them or look at them, and you act like we were about to throw down and consummate it right there in front of hundreds of people!!”

“I have never acted like that!!!”

“Hah! Seriously, Harry?!” I looked at him with the most scathing of pointed expressions.

“Okay. Maybe I have. Whatever,” he kicked at a chair leg absently, cross look on his face.

“Look, she **couldn’t** tell you about me and Severus. I swore her to secrecy. It would ruin him. The entire war hinges on him keeping his position as Headmaster. It’s the only thing keeping him alive, and he’s the only person capable of protecting the students.”

“Yeah, I know that. And I know that he’s not really a bad guy like I always thought…”

“Well, I mean... he is. But so am I. I’ve killed four men, Harry.”

The stunned expression on his face nearly broke my heart. “Are you serious, Hermione?”

“Yeah. I mean, they weren’t all Killing Curses, but yeah…” I looked into the eyes of the person who thought they knew me better than anyone in the world. “I’m a soldier, Harry. This is a war.”

Harry’s glasses fogged up as his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Gods, Hermione… I never thought I’d hear you talking like this in a million years.”

I pulled the young man to me, settling his head on my shoulder. He began to weep in earnest. _So weird that I’m the one comforting him._

“Listen, I know you’re probably blaming yourself for this. This is the same shit Severus always pulls on me. I didn’t do those things because of you. I didn’t do them because of him. I did them because I was able to, and I needed to. Those men needed to die. They couldn’t be allowed to take what they knew back to the Dark Lord. And the one time I spared a man who deserved to die… Well, you saw what happened. He died anyway…” I trailed off, not quite sure where I had been going with this whole thing.

He sniffled a few times, and when he finally spoke, his voice was muffled by my hair, “I’m just so tired of the people around me getting hurt all the time! How am I not supposed to blame myself?! You are only in this situation in the first place because you’re my friend!”

“You can’t say that. I’m a mudblood, Harry. Maybe I’m only alive right now _because_ I became your friend! If I hadn’t been there to solve Severus’s logic puzzle for you, the Dark Lord would have used the Philosopher’s Stone to return to a body when we were still little kids! We’d both be long dead by now!”

“I suppose that makes sense…” he muttered hesitantly.

I pulled back from our embrace to look him right in the eye. “It DOES make sense. Things happen how they happen, Harry. It doesn’t do us any good to wonder ‘what if?’. The Time Turners were destroyed in the battle at the Department of Mysteries. There’s no going back anymore.”

“Okay, maybe you’re better off by being my friend… But what about Ron? If he hadn’t gotten himself all tied up in all this…” Tears streamed down his cheeks once more.

I began to cry then as well, nodding my head mournfully, “Yeah. Poor Ron. He’s from an old wizarding family. And he never goes looking for trouble on his own. Without the two of us around he’d have been perfectly fine…”

Suddenly, all the lights in the kitchen flew through the air to condense in the far corner of the room.

There were a few seconds of utter darkness like the deepest cave imaginable.

I let out a high-pitched noise halfway between a squeal and a name, “RON!!!”

Harry and I tripped over each other and multiple chairs in our haste to get across the room. “Ron! Ron!” he cried out, reaching out to catch the woozy, toppling figure of our best friend.

The youngest Weasley boy looked absolutely dreadful, though he seemed mostly unharmed. Harry yanked open Ron’s clothing and laid him out across the kitchen table for me to examine. A couple broken fingers, which I had plenty of experience healing. I closed all the Sectumsempra cuts with Dittany, taking care to treat a couple early-stage infections with an antibacterial charm. The lack of tremors indicated that he hadn’t been the victim of the Cruciatus any time recently. I assumed he was one of the lucky few who passed out immediately after being struck with Crucio, rendering the curse largely useless for interrogation purposes.

Mostly, the kid just looked underfed and exhausted. Clearly, they hadn’t had to do much to get him to talk. If he had the resolve of someone like Severus, he’d have been much worse off. With a couple painkiller potions in his system, he was able to settle into one of the kitchen chairs and scarf down seven toasted cheese sandwiches. I could barely crank them out fast enough for him.

When he’d finally eaten enough food for four grown men, and drunk nearly a gallon of water, he finally found his voice, “Thanks, guys. I didn’t think I was ever gonna get out of there.”

“Yeah, how **did** that happen?” Harry asked, suspicious expression clouding his features for the first time. I, myself, had been wondering the same for a while.

“I dunno. I was just playing with my Put-Outer like usual. And then I heard your voices coming out of it.”

“What did we say?!” we asked simultaneously.

“My name. Just my name. First your voice, Harry. Then yours, Hermione. I had been thinking about you guys, so I thought I had imagined it. But then this little ball of light came out of the Put-Outer… and it went right into my chest… I could, like, feel the weight of the cellar wards fall off me. I just concentrated on imaging your faces… and next thing I knew, I was here!”

“So you apparated?! You shouldn’t be able to apparate directly into Grimmauld Place!” I stammered, suddenly anxious that something had screwed up the house’s protective enchantments.

“No. It didn’t feel anything like apparating. It didn’t have that awful squeezing feeling. I was just there. Then I was here.”

“Fuckin’ bizarre,” Harry muttered, shaking his head dazedly.

“Why did you even have the Put-Outer?” I wondered aloud, reaching out to take it from him and examine it more closely. “They took your wand, but they didn’t take that?”

“I saved it by shoving it down my boxers! I hadn’t changed them for three days when I was captured, so they didn’t want to go anywhere near 'em!” The boys fell into peals of laughter when I screeched in horror, disgustedly dropping the heavy golden device to the floor. Ron retrieved it, tucking it reverentially into his shirt pocket. “That bloody thing saved my life. I don’t know **how** Dumbledore knew I was going to need it… Where is that old bugger anyway? I thought he was living here.”

“He was moved to Shell Cottage this autumn. Everyone thought being able to get out and move and breathe the sea air would be better for his health than being cooped up in this dusty old house,” I announced crisply as the boys tried to get their uproarious laughter under control.

It was this moment that my lover chose to arrive. It felt appropriate: me with my hands on my hips and an expression of disapproval on my face, the boys holding onto each other as they fought hysterics. One of them would get himself under control, but the barely-concealed snorts of the other would set him off again. Severus stood in the doorway with crossed arms, watching the scene with an expression of purest disdain on his angular face.

Finally, he cleared his throat loudly, startling the boys into a panic. They spun around in their chairs like schoolchildren caught doing something naughty. “Holy crap!” Harry exclaimed, holding his hands to his pounding chest, “It’s like fuckin’ Pavlov’s dogs! Nothing strikes fear into the heart of me like that sound!”

Severus couldn’t seem to help himself, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. _He always gets way too much pleasure out of intimidating people._

Ron, on the other hand, didn’t relax when he realized it was only Severus. He avoided even looking in the older man’s direction as we all finished our meals.

I finally broke the silence as we began clearing off the table, “Well, Harry and I were able to shrink our trunks and carry them off the train, so we’re all set. But Ron, you don’t have anything to wear, right? And it’s not like Harry has a ton of extra clothes he can lend you… I guess we should look around upstairs- dig through closets and dressers to see if we can find anything decent for you. That stuff you have on now ought to be burned,” I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

“Hey!” Ron exclaimed, but ten minutes later, we found ourselves tromping up the stairs in single file. Severus and I went into the bedrooms on the second floor, while Harry and Ron continued on to the third. Only a few seconds passed before we heard voices bellowing from above, “GUYS!! COME QUICK!! HURRY!!!”

He and I positively flew up the stairs, wands out and poised to attack. We skidded to a halt at the end of the hall, panting in irritation when we found the boys just standing there, apparently staring at nothing. “What the fuck?!” Severus snapped.

Ron held out a single shaky finger, pointing at a tarnished brass nameplate. The fussy script was difficult to read, but I was able to decipher it after a few seconds. “Regulus Arcturus Black…” I murmured, “RAB… could it really be?! Could it have really been right here in front of our faces the entire time?!”

Severus’s voice carried a note of humiliation, but I was pretty sure I was the only one who noticed it, “Of course! Of fucking course!! Why didn’t I think of it?! He was inducted only a few weeks after me!! He didn’t even last half a year. The Dark Lord lied then- told us he was killed by aurors…”

“Guys! We SAW a locket!! When we were cleaning this house! Do you remember?? It was huge and heavy and creepy! That had to have been it!” I exclaimed.

“But where could it’ve gone?! So much of that stuff was thrown away…” Ron lamented.

“Not all of it…” Severus muttered thoughtfully, rubbing his whiskery chin. “That dirtbag Mundungus Fletcher snagged nearly everything of value before it could be sent off. He has the paws of a Niffler.”

“But how will we find him?” Harry asked. “Maybe I can send Dobby and Kreacher to track him down?”

Severus scoffed, “Psshh. I know every last one of that rat’s hidey-holes. I’ll have him sniffed out by midnight.”


	36. Psycho Killer (Severus)

_I should have known,_ was the first thought that popped into my head upon awakening Christmas morning. _Of course it would be that bloody toad._ I slipped quietly out of bed so as to not disturb Hermione’s rest, since the trio had all been up late waiting for me to return with news of the locket’s whereabouts. They had busied themselves in my absence by decorating a coat tree that Hermione had transfigured into a gorgeous Blue Spruce. The boys had improvised garland by stringing together popcorn, and she created ornaments from random knick-knacks they found around the house.

It made the library feel awfully crowded, but I could see how happy it made Hermione, so I didn’t complain. They were seated on the floor beside this ridiculous contraption when I returned from my errands, arms full of wrapped packages. I was placing the gifts under the tree when I caught the tail of end of what Harry was saying, “Then once we’re Polyjuiced, we’ll figure out how to get inside. I figure we can just follow other people and see what they’re...”

I cut him off, exclaiming, “Oh gods, what the bloody _fucking_ hell are you ridiculous children planning now?!”

Hermione flushed an intense shade of magenta, “I knew you wouldn’t approve… But we’re going to sneak into the Ministry to steal the locket from Umbridge…”

She avoided eye contact with me as I spluttered, “What sort of logical thought progression would lead you to THAT plan?! Merlin’s beard!!! You go after her LITERALLY ANYWHERE ELSE but the Ministry!! You’re going to try to infiltrate the second most secure location in all of Wizarding Britain?! Honestly! You’d have better luck trying to mug her in an alley!” I let out a shocked laugh of sheer disbelief.

The Trio looked truly embarrassed now, completely avoiding looking up at me. I reached into my heavy cloak, pulling a scrap of parchment out of an interior pocket. It fluttered to the threadbare rug between them. Potter picked it up and read my scribbles aloud, “Dolores Jane Umbridge. 666 Lordship Lane. East Dulwich. Ohhh…”

“I copied **that** out of her employment file at Hogwarts. We’ll go tonight. The Office of the Minister always has a big party on Christmas evening. It’ll be the perfect opportunity to search her house for a few hours without being interrupted.”

“And if it’s not there? What if she’s wearing it?” Hermione asked quietly, though she obviously already knew the answer.

“We will lie in wait and ambush her when she returns home. She’ll be inebriated, so her guard with be lowered. It’s probably the best opportunity we’re ever going to get.”

“Bloody hell…” Weasley muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It’s all beginning in earnest now,” I stated gravely, looking down at each of them in turn. “You lot won’t be able to return to Hogwarts anymore. Attacking that train was a clear message to me. The Dark Lord won’t tolerate playing my games any longer. And by now he’s certainly noticed your escape, Weasley. We need to end this war. And we need to end it quickly... before more innocent people are hurt.”

I was surprised when the ginger was the first to speak up, “He’s right. It’s time for us to get serious. I could make out bits and pieces of people’s conversations from down in that cellar. You-Know-Who has a bunch of plans that all seem to be starting very soon…”

“Indeed… But for now…” I gestured at the packages behind me, “It’s Christmas!”

“Did Professor Snape really just show up with Christmas presents like a skinny, batty Santa Claus?” Harry asked in disbelief, comically wiping his glasses on the front of his sweater. I swatted him on the back of the head and settled myself imperiously into the armchair next to the fireplace.

I watched the Trio rip into their three large, identical boxes. Harry and Hermione laughed with glee as they pulled out packet after packet, “Muggle sweets?!! And crisps?! I haven’t any of these in years!!” Potter crowed with excitement as Hermione squealed, “My parents would never let me try ANY of this! Stupid dentists!” Weasley seemed confused, but as he started ripping open packets and taking samples, a grin spread across his face. “It doesn’t move around or make noise or anything, but it’s still pretty damn tasty!”

“All I could find open for business today was a muggle drugstore. There are also some antacids in there for when you children inevitably overindulge and end up with sore tummies,” I smirked haughtily. A chorus of enthusiastic thank-yous sounded from the Golden Trio, but I waved them off imperiously.

Hermione crawled across the floor to sit with her back against my legs and munch on a bag of peach-flavoured gummi rings. She reached for the hand that trailed off the arm of my chair, and I allowed her to hold it. I was hesitant about such displays of affection in front of the boys, but I contented myself with the knowledge that they must have been feeling infinitely more uncomfortable about it than I was.

We all watched as Weasley shook the fourth package. “This one’s got my name on,” he remarked in disbelief.

“Bloody well open it already!” Potter laughed.

Weasley ripped off the paper and unlatched the rectangular maple box with a curious expression. His eyes lit up and a huge grin spread across his face, “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, reaching in to pull out two fistfulls of wands.

“There are about two dozen there. Try them all out and see which one feels the best to you,” I called across the room.

Weasley waved each of them in turn as Harry asked, “Where’d all these come from anyway?”

“Hogwarts has a repository of ownerless wands. Some are lost and found. Some are donated when a student buys a new one. Some are bequeathed to the school when their owners die. It’s a good idea for a school to keep a stash of wands. Kids are clumsy little buggers. Prone to breaking things. You've got to have extras around for them to borrow until their parents can arrange a trip to Diagon Alley to pick out a new one.”

“But why so many? Surely you’d only need a couple,” Hermione remarked.

“Not at all. Wands are picky. Ollivander wasn’t just blowing smoke up your ass when he said the wand chooses the wizard. This is very much the case.”

“But I’ve been able to use yours multiple times… Even Dumbledore’s wand allowed me to use it…”

“My wand allowed you to take control because it’s **mine**. It recognizes you. It knows it can trust you. However… Why Albus’s would bend to your will is an entirely different matter. I have no easy explanation for that.”

A triumphant shout coincided with an enormous shower of red and green sparks, “I think I found the one! Come on, Harry, let’s go try it out!” The boys stampeded up the stairs, off to do Merlin-knows-what with their new toy.

My ears were left ringing in the sudden silence. I reached into my cloak and pulled out a tiny velvet-covered box, tied with a bow. I slowly lowered it in front of Hermione’s face by the end of the ribbon. She gasped, snatching it out of my hand and tearing the ribbon off in the process. “Oops!” she giggled girlishly, and the sound of her mirth warmed my chest.

The little jewelry box squeaked as she opened it. She let out a quiet sigh of admiration, reaching out to stroke the delicate golden band. A motif of itty-bitty snakes, tangled into flowered vines, was carved into the band. She slid it onto her right ring finger, turning her hand this way and that, admiring the intricate workmanship. I showed her my own left hand, where I had placed a similar ring, though this one was platinum, significantly heavier, and carved with a series of lions and celtic knots.

“They’re linked. If either of us is in immediate danger, the other’s ring will burn in warning. Then you just have to touch the ring as you apparate, and it will bring you as close to me as it possibly can.”

“Did you get the idea from the Put-Outer?” Hermione laughed.

“Correct. Though I cannot for the life of me figure out how Dumbledore managed to get it to bypass wards…” I grumbled irritably.

“We’ll probably _never_ know. He’s bound to have forgotten it himself!”

“Probably. Oh, and no one can see the rings besides us, by the way. So if you’re captured, it can’t be taken away from you.”

Her face fell. “Oh, really?”

I looked down at her in confusion, “Why on earth are you disappointed?”

She turned around to kneel at my feet and look up at me beseechingly, “Why don’t you change the charms so that the rings are visible, but just can’t be removed?”

“Why on earth would you prefer that?”

My heart began to pound as she reached for my belt, deftly unbuckling it before moving to unbutton my fly. “Because I want people to see my beautiful ring, _obviously_.”

My cock was already completely hard by the time she finished pulling it out. “But why?” I groaned, throwing my head back as she began to stroke me slowly, torturously...

“I’m not your student anymore, right? So it doesn’t matter if people find out about us.” She pulled my foreskin down with one hand and ran her tongue ever-so-gently in glorious circles around my head.

I tried to protest, but all that came out was a breathy moan. She smirked up at me, lips poised a mere inch above my straining, furiously red cock. “Fine! Fine!” I gasped, “Just put me in your fucking mouth already!”

She obliged immediately, lowering her head to take as much of me into her throat as she could manage.

She gagged a couple times, but built to a furious pace, using her hand to stimulate my scrotum as she shoved her head down onto my rod over and over again...

“I’m going to come!” I warned, and she backed off immediately.

I began to make a noise of disappointment, but then she was climbing into my lap. She hiked up her nightgown and pulled her panties to the side.

Unbelievable heat enveloped me, and I lost all sense of control...

She only had to rock her hips once or twice…

I thrust my hips upward as I slammed her down to force nearly all of my length inside...

She screamed in agony..

I cried out her name…

My balls seized over and over again as I pumped into her...

She swung her hips gently, milking me of every last ounce of my seed, whispering encouragement into my ear the entire time…

I felt it begin to spill out around me, soaking her underwear as well as the front of my trousers. She climbed off of my lap and returned to her post on the floor. I let loose a feral growl when she looked up at me and maintained intense, unblinking eye contact as she sucked me clean and used her little pink tongue to lap up every last drop of spunk from my clothing.

“That’s my good little girl. Get every last bit…” I murmured as I buried my hand in her wild curls-

-It was this inopportune moment that the boys chose to burst back into the library. “OH BLOODY HELL!!!!” Potter screeched, as Weasley simply turned tail and ran. Hermione cast curse after curse at their retreating backs, screaming like a deranged maniac, “FUCKING KNOCK, YOU FUCKING MOTHERFUCKERS!!!”

I laughed harder and longer than I had in years as I tucked myself away and cast a quick cleansing charm between Hermione’s legs. Her entire body, down to the very tips of her toes, was flushed beet red. “Hey, you’re the one who’s the exhibitionist,” I teased. “Why are you so upset?”

Her voice held more mortification than I had ever known humanly possible, “Uggghhh… Why did it have to be those two?! They’re never going to let me live this down! I’m going to get mocked for this every. single. day. of the rest of my life!!!”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about that.”

She peered up at me through the fingers she held clenched to her face, “What do you mean?”

“They are just as embarrassed as you are. I’d be willing to bet a hundred galleons neither one of them brings this up EVER again.”

“Oh gods, I really hope you’re right,” she groaned. “And why are you so calm about this?! You’re the one who hesitated to hold my hand in front of them!”

I shrugged, “It’s different for men. Two young guys just saw me getting an enthusiastic blowjob cleanup from an insanely sexy girl who’s half my age. I’m like a god to them now.”

“That’s bullshit!! We were both involved, but I’m humiliated while you’re getting revered?! That’s the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard in my life!”

“I agree wholeheartedly. Doesn’t stop it from being true, though.”

She huffed, folding her arms across her chest, “Uggghhh… Fuck my stupid life!”


	37. The Beach (Hermione)

I dressed myself in the most conservative turtleneck sweater, pencil skirt, and tights I could find in my trunk. I started to put on a pair of flat Mary Janes, but then I looked over at Severus, who was looking ridiculously hot in a slim-fitted black-on-black shirt, vest, and silk tie. _Ehh, fuck it..._ I put on a pair of knee-high brown suede boots with three-inch heels that Ginny had grown out of last winter. He looked over with a tiny smirk of approval when he noticed me lacing them up.

I was his sous chef for the next four hours as he prepared an elaborate Christmas lunch. I very quickly regretted my footwear choices, but I caught Severus hungrily eyeing my legs and arse more than once, so there was no way I was going to change now.

I was amazed that the smell of food didn’t lure the boys downstairs until it was already nearly done. _They must have been really terrified to hold off as long as they did._ I gave them each a freshly baked roll and sent them back up, telling them that they’ll be called when dinner is ready. They let out simultaneous groans as I waved them away with my apron.

I caught Severus grinning at me and snapped, “What?!”

“Such a mum…” he muttered, ever-so-quietly, so that I could just barely make out his words.

“What did you just say?!”

“Nothing. Didn’t say a thing.”

“I didn’t think so…” I glared at him, but he just turned back to the stove, whisking the gravy and casually humming some random Pink Floyd song to himself.

Lunch was served at precisely 2:30, the exact time Severus had projected when we began cooking. _I don’t know how he does it,_ I marveled, _Every meal I cook takes an hour longer than I think it’s going to._

The boys stampeded down the stairs within seconds of me calling their names. They positively flew into the kitchen, raving about how amazing everything smelled.

They already had their plates overflowing and were shoveling sweet potatoes and green beans into their mouths by the time Severus lowered the glorious, golden-brown turkey onto the center of the table and slid into the chair next to me. Ron clapped excitedly, then immediately reached for the nearest drumstick, ripping it off and scalding his hand in the process.

Severus served me shepherd’s pie, sweet potatoes, and beans, while I put slices of mince pie on each of our plates. He gave me a roll, and loaded my plate with way too many slices of turkey. I dumped gravy all over everything and dug in as he finally began putting food on his own plate.

Harry and Ron spluttered out compliments around huge bites of food, and I knew Severus would be glowing inside when the boys agreed that his cooking was just as good as Mrs. Weasley’s, if not better.

I squeezed his hand under the table, grinning over at him. “I love you,” I mouthed to him, and he gave me the tiniest of smiles after making sure we weren’t being watched.

The boys finally gave up after seconds and thirds of everything, and sent us to the library to rest while they cleaned the kitchen. This made Severus very nervous, but I assured him that we could go back later and make sure that everything was _properly_ clean. He sat at the end of the couch, and I laid with my head nestled in his lap. He dug his fingers into my thicket of hair, massaging my scalp soothingly, “See? They didn’t bring it up even once. They just want to forget what they saw. Trust me.”

“I guess you’re right,” I sighed, unconsciously making little pleasurable gasps as he moved down to my neck. “It helped to have the food as a distraction.”

“The surest way to a guy’s heart. Weasley wanted to wring my neck after catching a glimpse of the girl he loves sucking my cock. But now I have fed him. Now we have a _positive association_. It’s like a dog.” He looked down at me with a haughty smirk. “I just have to feed him a couple more times, and before long he’ll be wagging his tail every time he sees me!”

“Shush, you!” I scolded him, trying desperately to keep the smile off my face. _It doesn’t help that the boy’s patronus is literally a Jack Russell Terrier!_

 

We ended up drifting off, and didn’t awaken until the boys knocked tentatively on the library door, calling out, “Uhh, guys? It’s 7:30... We should probably start our plan soon, right?”

“Shit!” Severus cursed as he scrambled to his feet and helped me stand up.

I was woozy and still half-asleep as Harry and Severus each took one of my hands on the stoop of Grimmauld Place. A brief sensation that woke me in a rather unpleasant manner, and we appeared in the alleyway behind Umbridge’s house.

Harry, Ron, and I took up posts guarding each direction as Severus spent the next ten minutes seated on the ground with his back against a skip. He was muttering in a sing-song fashion, slowly working his way through her defensive wards.

The protections were clearly more than he had anticipated, as a fine layer of sweat had appeared on his brow. His forehead was wrinkled in an expression of intense concentration.

I noticed suddenly that he had stopped taking breaths, stopped speaking.

His coal-black eyes were still and blank, like windows with the shades drawn.

I shook him frantically, desperately, screaming his name.

The boys looked over their shoulders with terrified expressions.

When he failed to respond, I dragged him down onto his back on the slushy pavement. I pushed on his chest rhythmically a couple dozen times, then placed my mouth over his, forcing air down his throat...

He coughed and spluttered, grabbing frantically at his throat, “Fuck! Fuck!” he choked out as he finally began to breathe again.

“What the hell was that?!” I screeched.

“I don’t know! Some kind of curse blocked my airway so I couldn’t keep casting the counter-wards! You must have dislodged it...”

“I didn’t cast any spells!”

“Maybe not intentionally…” Harry called over his shoulder. “My wand performed magic on its own this summer. Maybe yours did too, Hermione. When you started to do CPR on him… Your wand probably got the general idea.”

“Impossible!” Severus and I scoffed at the exact same moment.

Harry just shrugged and remarked, “It was just an idea.”

“Well, regardless, the wards are down now. I managed to finish the counterspells wordlessly. I thought that would release their hold on my windpipe, but apparently not. Now let’s get moving before someone spots us lurking out here.”

We crept through the snow-blanketed back garden as I vanished our footprints behind us. Severus laughed quietly when he discovered the physical lock on the glass door wasn’t even engaged. He left us in the garden while he did a quick circuit of the house to make sure it was well and truly empty. I reminded the boys to dry their boots before tramping through the house.

The little bungalow was so much worse than I could have ever imagined. Not a single surface in the house had escaped being painted pink, covered in lace doilies, and/or decorated with kitten-themed memorabilia. Ron cringed dramatically as we all dug through the drawers in the living room. Severus and I proceeded into the bedroom as the boys moved to the kitchen.

I spent fifteen minutes with her jewelry box alone, desperately searching for any kind of hidden compartment or false bottom. Severus, on the other hand, got stuck searching through her dresser drawers. I’m fairly certain that the time he spent digging through her underwear was the most strenuous two minutes of his entire life. I don’t think any torture from the Dark Lord was harder for him to endure than handling her gigantic, frilly underthings.

We spent over an hour and a half tearing the house apart, and we came up totally empty-handed. “This is just as I expected,” he remarked nonchalantly as we all convened in the living room. “She will have formed an emotional attachment to the Horcrux by now. I’m willing to bet she wears it every single day.”

“But I thought Horcruxes were supposed to make you depressed and angry and stuff?” I asked in confusion.

“This is true for the average person. But Dolores Umbridge is already so full of darkness and filth… The locket will feel right at home on her breast.”

“Eww… don’t use that word when you talk about her!” Ron exclaimed, covering his ears, drawing chuckles from me and Harry.

" **Anyway** ,” Severus scolded us, “The point I was trying to make before these repeated interruptions: she will know that someone has been in her house the exact second she returns home. There’s no way for me to convincingly imitate such complicated wards. She’d recognize the signature of my magic immediately. So she will be on guard the instant she walks through the gate. Our only hope is for her to be unconscious before her foot even hits the Welcome mat.”

He led us out onto the tiny front porch. Fortunately, none of the windows in the nearby houses were lit. It seemed that everyone was out for the holiday. “Potter, you and Weasley will hide under your invisibility cloak behind this bush here. It will conceal your feet from view. I can cast a decent enough Disillusionment Charm on Hermione and myself to hide behind that tree there,” he indicated the ancient oak that dominated the front yard. I was impressed with the boys’ rapt attention as he laid out the rest of the plan.

We had to wait for Umbridge for over an hour, and I felt like my toes were going to break off from frostbite at any moment. Her body language was instantly suspicious as she popped into existence outside the front gate. She opened the gate slowly and silently, pointing her wand frantically around the garden.

She proceeded slowly up the garden path, seeming to relax when she wasn’t immediately attacked.

I could just barely hear her whispering to herself, “Must be inside…”

I slowly, cautiously, pointed my wand around the right side of the tree trunk as Severus did the same on the opposite side.

I took in a long, deep breath as she climbed the front steps…

 

One step…

 

Two steps…

 

Three steps…

 

Her foot was a scant inch above the chintzy little rubber mat, decorated with kittens wearing Christmas bows…

I slowly let out my breath as I thought, _STUPEFY!_

Three other silent spells streaked through the frosty air, split-seconds after mine.

The old woman’s lumpy body convulsed as a rapid succession of four stunning spells struck her one after the other. She tumbled backwards down the slick stairs, busting open her forehead on the way down.

We all scrambled forward in an instant. Severus tore the locket off her throat, leaving a nasty friction burn from the thick chain. The rest of us rifled through her pockets and searched her hands, taking every single coin, ring, and bracelet off her. “Okay, now I’ll just adjust her memory really quickly…” Severus muttered as he pointed his disillusioned wand at her bloody forehead. “Excellent. Now she’ll remember coming home, lowering her wards, slipping on the stairs and knocking herself out. She’ll just think some random opportunistic thug saw her passed out and mugged her.”

“Shouldn’t we just… you know… take care of her?” I asked with affected nervousness, glad that he couldn’t see the dispassionate expression on my face.

“No. We need to cover our tracks. Now she has no reason to suspect she was specifically targeted. It’ll just seem like she lost the locket in a stroke of bad luck.”

I shrugged nonchalantly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling as we apparated away that we should’ve just killed her and been done with it.


	38. Electioneering (Severus)

_Was she always like this? Or has it been my influence that turned her into this remorseless machine?_ I laid awake all that night, contemplating how quickly everything had happened. Our trip to Umbridge’s couldn’t have gone smoother, and I was able to destroy the locket by tossing it in the fireplace and burning it up with Fiendfyre. (After warning the children that under no circumstances were they to attempt the same.)

 _She tried to sound hesitant about the idea of killing that old toad. Maybe Potter and Weasley bought it, but she can’t fool me so easily.  I refuse to believe she’s always been so blood-thirsty. This has to be my fault. There’s no other explanation. She’s so kind-hearted, and loving, and forgiving… I refuse to believe_ **_this_ ** _person was always underneath all that._

_But this is good, right? It shows that she’s a better fit for you than you ever imagined._

_Not if she’s turned into this monster because of me!! How am I supposed to live with the knowledge that I perverted this kind, innocent girl into someone who kills people just because it’s more convenient than leaving them alive?!_

_Well, regardless, that ship has already sailed. This is what you have to deal with now. It’s not like you can talk about it with her. You’ll sound like the biggest hypocrite alive. All you can do is try to keep her in touch with her humanity. Having the boys around is bound to help._

I rolled out of bed around dawn, careful not to disturb her rest. I collected the Daily Prophet from the stoop and proceeded back down to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. I hadn’t even glanced at the paper until I was settling into my armchair by the fireplace…

  

> **MINISTER MURDERED!!!**
> 
> **It is with the heaviest of hearts this morning** **that we at The Daily Prophet must announce the death of beloved Minister of Magic, Rufus Leonardo Scrimgeour.**
> 
> **He leaves no survivors, as his wife and children were also murdered in the vicious attack on Christmas night.**
> 
> **Ministry officials believe a muggle break-in to be the cause…**

I stopped reading then, uninterested in whatever propaganda the media was trying to feed me. I scowled even more when I flipped over to the next page and read “ **Congratulations to our new Editor in Chief: Rita Skeeter!!!** ”. Completely disgusted, I tossed the newspaper into the empty fireplace and flicked my wand, setting it soothingly aflame.

I was still fuming hours later when the children gradually awoke and made their way into the library to join me. I filled them in on the lies we were being fed by the Dark Lord, leading to them ranting furiously for hours and desperately trying to come up with a plan to fight back.

Hermione was wondering, “Who on earth would believe that muggles could even be capable of murdering a former auror and his entire family as they slept?! It’s utter hogwash! We have to fight back! I’ve gotten multiple offers to turn your Quibbler column into a book series, Harry! They seem to think that with a bit of filler, the material I’ve published so far could easily fill two books. And I’m only through your second year at Hogwarts...”

“No major publisher would take that risk now…” I lamented. “The Dark Lord has shown his hand to anyone brave enough to look at it. Aligning with Potter now is as good as begging to be murdered in your sleep. Notice that the Prophet didn’t mention what happened to the old Editor in Chief…”

“But the column did such a good job of making the public like Harry! Surely if there were books that people could buy in any store-” Weasley mused.

“And what if the Death Eaters come knocking? Having that book on your shelf is as good as a death warrant. People can’t be seen publicly supporting me anymore. It’s become too dangerous,” Harry sighed, shaking his head miserably. “Soon I’m going to be labeled a criminal, undesirable number one... “

“But how can that be?! What laws have you broken?!” Weasley asked desperately.

“He doesn’t have to break laws. The system itself is utterly broken. All that matters is the court of public opinion. This is the problem with only having one major source of news for an entire community of people. There is no fact-checking. There’s no accountability. You can just tell people what to believe, and they’ll believe it.”

“But that’s bullshit!!” Hermione shouted, “This would never fly in the muggle world! There are such things as FACTS and TRUTH! It shouldn’t be this easy to manipulate an entire country!!!”

“It’s not as if the muggle world is immune to this, Hermione. People have been manipulating the mass media for as long as there’s been such a thing. Fascist states aren’t simply a wizard phenomenon,” I argued.

“But we should have more than one fucking newspaper!!!” Harry shouted.

“I agree wholeheartedly, but there’s nothing we can do about that now. What, are the four of us going start one?”

Hermione perked up at that, “Why not?!”

Harry cracked up, “Umm, maybe because we have three horcruxes to find and destroy, not to mention an evil dark wizard to kill?”

“Potter’s right, Hermione. As much as it bothers me to have this misinformation being spread so freely, it’s out of our control now. We held it off as long as we could. It would be prudent for you to cease writing your column as well. It’s not right for us to continue putting the Lovegoods in danger.”

“So we’re officially fugitives now?” Weasley asked sadly.

“Yes, Mister Weasley,” I said as gently as possible, “You won’t be able to visit your family for the foreseeable future. No more going out in public without an elaborate disguise. You will all be safe at Grimmauld indefinitely, so long as none of you do anything _stupid_ , such as, for instance, breaking into the Ministry…” I gave each of them a pointed look.

“Well, being cooped up here can’t possibly be as bad as that cellar at the Malfoy’s, so I guess I’m good with that,” he shrugged.

 

We watched the next four days unfolding through headlines:

“ **Ministry Official Arrested for Fraud”**

**“Ministry Official Arrested for Embezzlement”**

**“Family Disappears Under Mysterious Circumstances”**

**“Families Flee as Threat of Muggle Attacks Intensifies”**

**“How to Protect Your Family Against Muggles, Mudbloods, and All Who Seek to Do You Harm”**

**“Wizard Birthrates Falling Due to Profusion of Non-Magical Heritage”**

**“The Killer Next Door: Mudbloods and Their Violent Nature”**

 

But then on New Year’s Eve, an unprecedented event occurred that was big enough news that even Rita Skeeter couldn’t bury it:

>   **BACK FROM THE DEAD???**
> 
> **The Wizarding Community was stunned today by the reappearance of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore at an emergency session of the Wizengamut. A number of authentication spells determined that this was not an impostor, and was truly the infamous warlock himself.**
> 
> **Why he chose to fake his death last May, cruelly subjecting the entire wizarding world to a needless period of mourning, remains unknown.**
> 
> **Dumbledore has returned with the self-stated purpose of impeding the Wizengamut’s appointment of a new Minister for Magic. The warlock, aged 116, has instead called for the Wizengamut to take upon the mantle of “War Council”. (As our readers are aware, this is contrary to the Wizengamut’s centuries-old, clearly-stated purpose of providing law and order to Wizarding Britain.)**
> 
> **Furthermore, it is entirely unclear precisely what threat this “War Council” is meant to confront. Despite being the son of a famous muggle-killer, Dumbledore did not seem concerned about the wave of non-magical violence that is currently terrorizing our innocent readers.**
> 
> **Indeed, why he chose this moment to return from the dead remains an insidious mystery- one that we at the Prophet assure our readers will be reported in due time.**

“Goddamnit, what the hell could he be thinking?!” I asked Hermione furiously as we laid in bed, sipping tea and reading the morning propaganda.

“He’s probably desperate to do anything he can to help. I’m sure it’s been driving him insane being stuck in hiding. And if it delays the Dark Lord from installing his puppet Minister for a few weeks… It can’t hurt right?”

“It absolutely FUCKING CAN hurt! That crazy old bastard is in mortal danger now! The Dark Lord is going to be coming after him with everything he’s got!!”

“Maybe he doesn’t care? He had accepted his death a long time ago, after all. Maybe life just isn’t looking all that appealing anymore? And he has his third dose of potion, so he can give himself a quick, painless death before the Death Eaters can do anything horrible to him.”

I looked at her with utter disbelief, “Who are you?! Last spring you were inconsolable about the idea of his death!”

She raised a single eyebrow in a shrewdly pointed expression, “Actually, I believe that was YOU who were inconsolable…” I glared at her venomously, but she completely ignored me. “And I’ve changed, Severus. I have realized that there are much worse things than death. You forget that I’ve nursed you back to health after being tortured dozens of times. A simple Avada Kedavra would have been far less cruel than what you’ve endured...”

“How can you be so practical about all this?!”

“How else am I supposed to be? It’s not going to do us any good to whinge and cry. This is the hand I’ve been dealt, and I’m going to play it as best I can.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re so calm about everything… I hope that lasts after you find out about the owl that came this afternoon...” I sneered.

She just gave me a questioning look, so I continued, “The Dark Lord has summoned the two of us for… dinner,” I gave an involuntary shudder. “He wants to meet you… and I’m assuming he wants to discuss Dumbledore’s continued existence.”

Hermione gulped audibly, “There’s no way he could know we’re involved, right?”

“Not that I can think of. We’ve completely covered all our tracks…”

“So he’s searching for allies then… He’s obviously going to blame Bellatrix… We can use this to our advantage! Ohhhh yes… The more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes that this could be the best possible situation for us to be in!” Her eyes were now glowing with far more eagerness than I was comfortable with.

“What on earth gives you that impression?”

“The Dark Lord has four officers, right? He replaced Lucius with you, then Lucius was brought back when I killed Rodolphus Lestrange. So that leaves you, Bellatrix, Rowle, and Malfoy. Lucius is already mostly on our side, right? So if we can turn the Dark Lord against Bellatrix and get rid of Rowle…”

“And if Lucius and I can get Him to replace them with yourself and Narcissa…” I murmured.

“Exactly! He’s going to be paranoid, terrified, unable to trust anyone. Bellatrix was closer to him than any Death Eater. Her ‘betrayal’ will completely unseat him! It’ll be easy for you and Lucius to convince him that there are no other possible candidates!” she rattled off excitedly.

“You do realize what this means, right?!” I demanded. “There will be no way for you to get out of becoming a Death Eater. You’re going to be branded with the Dark Mark for the rest of your life!”

“Ob-vi-ous-ly…” she annunciated with an expression of utmost boredom. I was shaken to the core by how good her impression of me had become.


	39. The Ark (Hermione)

Despite the brave front I put on for Severus, I was quite literally shaking in my boots that night as we left Grimmauld Place. Having intellectually come to terms with something is very different from actually confronting it in real life. The most I had ever seen of the Dark Lord was pictures in a book. I hadn’t faced him in person a handful of times like Harry had. I had absolutely no clue what to expect.

Severus primed me for our meeting, reiterating endlessly that I was to show utter deference at all times. I was not to argue with Him. I was not to state any opinion that was contrary to His. I wasn’t to speak unless spoken to. I wasn’t to touch my food until He began eating. I wasn’t to sit until He sat. I wasn’t to stand until He stood… on and on and on for hours. I hadn’t been so miserable since my parents sent me to table-manners school the summer after Grade 4.

And I really did arrive at Malfoy Manor with the full intention of following these instructions to the letter. My mouth had other plans, however.

For one thing, the most evil wizard of all time really wasn’t all that intimidating in person. He was skeletally thin and not even very tall. Severus had him beat by 6 inches at least. (And it’s pretty hard to take someone seriously when they have the worst lisp you’ve heard in your entire life, yet they keep saying the name “Severus” over and over and OVER again!)

Don’t get me wrong- I never forgot for a second what a dangerous person we were dealing with. I just didn’t find my mind as paralyzed with fright as I had expected. In fact, I realized something that hundreds of Death Eaters had apparently failed to notice: obsequiousness irritates the hell out of him.

Now, he did appreciate what all the groveling symbolized- his servants’ utter humility and deference. But it annoyed the hell out of him when you’d speak without looking him straight in the eye. Furthermore, if your voice was shaking so bad that he couldn’t understand what you were saying, he completely lost interest.

Crawling, scraping servants have their place in the Death Eater ranks, to be sure. But I was trying to insinuate myself as an officer. I had to offer something more. Something he didn’t already have. So I took a calculated risk… I decided to become the teller of hard truths, the one to question his choices, the one to encourage him to look deeper into issues.

Now, this could have completely blown up in my face. And I knew that Severus absolutely would not approve. But when I changed my tack fifteen minutes into the dinner and stopped agreeing with everything the Dark Lord said, I could feel a definite shift in the atmosphere of the Malfoys' opulent dining room...

“But what good would it do, killing Bellatrix?” I asked, taking a casual sip of wine.

His snake-like eyes narrowed dangerously, “People who fail me perish. It’s as simple as that.”

“But we don’t yet know if she failed you, or if leaving Dumbledore alive was an intentional action.”

“What does it matter?!” he hissed dangerously.

“It matters a great deal. She could be the ringleader of a group of dissidents. If you kill her straight-off, you’ll never know.”

“Impossible! There are no dissidents in the ranks of my Death Eaters!!”

“With all due respect, My Lord, you cannot know that for certain. Severus has told me about all the failed raids lately. Your targets are being forewarned of your impending attacks, correct? Think about it… Only an officer could be leaking that information,”

“So if I kill her, the problem will be taken care of either way!!” he spat.

“Not so! How can you be certain of your replacement officer’s loyalty?” I asked with affected concern in my voice.

The wizard was silent for a long time as he contemplated my words. Finally, he nodded thoughtfully and asked, “But how am I to determine where her loyalties lie?”

That was when Severus spoke up for the first time, “That’s where we come in, My Lord. There is a simple test. What is something you have entrusted her with? Something you didn’t think anyone else capable of doing?”

Those haunting eyes lit up with fierce joy, “Of course! The sword!”

My love nodded seriously, “Precisely. You replaced the Sword of Gryffindor in my office with a fake and stored the real one in her vault at Gringotts…”

“So if it’s missing, or there’s a fake in her vault, we’ll know she stole the sword for herself! I can disguise myself with Polyjuice, and Severus and I can check out her vault as soon as the bank opens tomorrow morning!” I couldn’t see the endgame of Severus’s plan, but I trusted him enough to go along with it anyway.

“Very well. We will give your little plan a try,” he hissed quietly. “But tell me, young lady, what _precisely_ is motivating you to assist me?”

“I am well aware that I need to prove myself to you, My Lord. You won’t accept me into your ranks without proof of my loyalties and abilities.”

“But why would a muggle-born such as yourself be interested in becoming a Death Eater, hmm? Surely you would be repulsed by our pureblood rhetoric?”

“Respectfully, My Lord, I recognize that for what it is: _pure_ rhetoric. A tool to manipulate the media and the ignorant masses. A Red Herring. I know that Severus, as well as yourself, are half-bloods. I know there is a sizable number of muggle-borns amongst your ranks.”

He seemed impressed with my answer, and went on to ask, “Be that as it may, what do you **personally** have to gain by aligning yourself with me?”

I pretended to contemplate my answer for a long time, though I’d had it prepared for weeks, “The Ministry as it stands has nothing to offer a witch such as myself. Someone with my talent would be utterly wasted there. I should be Minister for Magic with my abilities... but without the connections, and the family name, and the money… I’d never stand a chance. I could get an entry-level position in a regulatory office, maybe eventually work my way up to a Head of Department in forty years. But my advancement would stall out there, leaving me middle-aged and bored. I’m sure you’re aware that no muggle-born has ever risen to a true position of power in the wizarding world.”

“Quite...”

“So that’s why I want to serve you, My Lord. I need more. I _deserve_ more than this world can offer me.”

The dark wizard stared at me for a moment before an enormous, apparently genuine smile spread across his waxen face. “Ha-HAH! Would you listen to that?! Severus my boy, you sure do know how to pick ‘em! I cannot BELIEVE how much she sounds like you at that age!”

His face was horribly blank as he stared across the table at me, “Likewise…”

“Well, you _have_ always had good taste in witches! That Evans girl was quite the fighter, too. And so SEXY! Miss Granger, did you know that she had a chance to live, and she didn’t take it? I told her that if she simply stepped aside, she would be spared. And she REFUSED! Can you believe it?!”

Severus had warned me that He would try to test me like this, so my expression was coolly dismissive as I shrugged, “Stupid girl. She could always just have another baby.”

“That’s what I said!” He cackled, “But you know how women are… ruled by their hormones and whatnot.”

My pulse was throbbing furiously in my throat, but it was easy to see his dangling bait, “ **Some** women, My Lord. Those of us with the intelligence to fight our impulses have no such issues.”


	40. Since I've Been Loving You (Severus)

I didn’t sleep a wink that night, but Hermione didn’t seem to have the same problem. She awoke energized and cheerful when I called her name and shook her gently at half past 7. She grinned up at me, reaching to grab the back of my head and pull me down to her. I hesitated to kiss her, so she gave a playful growl, wrapping both arms tight around my shoulders. She arched her back, pressing her chest against me, and pressed her lips urgently to my own.

Her lips were hot, and wet, and sweet, and I couldn’t resist for a second longer, and her tongue slipped into my mouth. I couldn’t believe how aggressive she was being, and she seemed to be getting off on my reluctance. I pushed back on her narrow shoulders, gasping for air, “Hermione… We can’t...”

She grinned at me mischievously, then ripped the blankets off of us and threw them to the floor. I rolled onto my back and propped myself up on my elbows as she sat back on her heels. She pulled her lacey white nightgown over her head in one quick movement, leaving just her girlish, ruffled pale pink panties behind. “I think I’ll just leave these on for a bit, huh?” she teased, turning around to give me a view of her delectable, ruffle-covered behind. It was all I could do not to reach out and squeeze it.

“Do you like them?” she asked, looking over her shoulder coquettishly.

“Yes,” I grunted.

“You don’t think they make me look too young? Like a little schoolgirl?”

“Yes…” I whispered.

“What was that, Professor Snape? What did you say about my panties?”

“Devilish little minx.”

She turned back around and began to crawl towards me on all fours, “What was that, Professor Snape? You said I’m a slutty little girl who shouldn’t go around wearing things like this or you’re going to get bad ideas?”

Before I knew what was happening, she had yanked the pillows out from behind me, shoved me flat on my back, and straddled my face. “And you just can’t control yourself around me, can you, Professor? You can’t stop yourself from taking advantage of this poor, innocent, angelic girl…” Then she was pulling aside her panties, pressing herself to my open, gasping lips…

The sweet, musky scent of her arousal made me instantly high on endorphins. My tongue had plunged into her before I even thought about doing it…

She pressed against me painfully, grinding against my chin and nose as she got herself off with my face…

“You’re such a bad, bad man, Professor… Using and abusing me… Dirty… old… man…” she grunted as she came closer and closer to completion.

I reached up, dragging an index finger through her juicy cunt, before abruptly shoving it into her asshole up to the first knuckle. She screamed and bucked against my face, nearly breaking my nose with her pubic bone, but I didn’t let her go. I wrapped my free arm around her hips, keeping her still and under my control. I began to shove the finger further into her tightened, seizing passage. Meanwhile, I assaulted her clitoris with furious sucking and nibbling that I was sure was more than a little painful.

“Oh gods, please no, Professor, please…” she wept, moaning deliriously, as my middle finger joined my index in her indescribably tight passage…

Then I was slamming my hand into her ass at a furious pace…

My tongue moving a mile a minute against her clit…

Tears were flowing endlessly down her face as she screamed my name and begged for mercy…

Finally, I felt her muscles begin to spasm and clench around my fingers as wave after wave of ever-intensifying orgasm washed over her.

She made noises I had never experienced before, so high-pitched and deafeningly loud that I was sure dogs in the next county could hear her.

Until, finally, blessedly, she collapsed on top of me. I had to crawl out from under her, then rearrange her numb, limp limbs into a more comfortable position on the now pillow- and blanket-free bed. I was taken by surprise when I flopped down next to her, and she immediately reached to start untying my sleep pants, “Miss Granger, you are obviously in no shape to be doing that right now,” I scolded in my best professor voice.

“Please, Professor Snape? I need your cock in my mouth! I think I might die if I can’t taste it!” she begged beseechingly.

“Do you honestly think you could even manage that right now?” I teased, “You can barely even lift your head! You’re useless to me!”

She got a huge grin on her face, then scooted to the edge of the bed and hung her head off the side, “Look! I can just lie here, and you can use my mouth all you need!”

I jumped from the bed with a greedy leer on my face, tearing off my shirt and pants way too eagerly. My cock was throbbing and my balls were painfully tight as I spread my legs and bent my knees slightly to get down to her level. She opened her mouth obligingly and closed her eyes…

Her teeth scraped against my sensitive head as I pushed into her mouth, but I didn’t even care. I pulled back slowly and thrust into her again, startling a little squeal out of her as my balls slapped against her nose.

I began with a slow pace, but I couldn’t maintain it, and within a minute I was furiously rutting against her face as she choked and struggled beneath me…

“Dirty fucking whore... filthy slut..." I grunted as I reached down to pinch and pull at her hard little nipples. Her tits were bouncing back and forth with every thrust of my hips, and the effect was utterly entrancing. I could’ve soaked in that view all day, but then her hands were trailing between her pale thighs.

She let out a moan that I felt vibrating against my cock from its home in her throat. She was fucking herself with one hand while the fingers of the other flew across her clitoris. I could hear the mounting frenzy in her voice, so I began to move with renewed vigor, “Yessss… that’s my perfect little slut… touch yourself for me… get yourself off for your Master… I know you like it when I use you like this… use you like the dirty little sex toy you are…”

She came with an enormous, drawn-out scream, and I just barely pulled out in time to finish all over her chest so that she didn’t choke on it.

I vanished the evidence and began getting dressed as she panted for breath and gradually came back to her senses. By the time I had gotten into the numerous layers of shirt, trousers, vest, tie, robes, and heavy winter cloak, as well as pulled on and laced up my finest dragonskin ankle boots, she had finally managed to pull herself into a sitting position. I helped her to her feet, leaning her against the bedpost as I went into the bureau for the gown and cloak Lucius had presented to us on our way out of Malfoy Manor last night.

The mid-thigh-length, tattered, greenish grey underdress was simple enough to put on, but we had some trouble lacing Hermione into the black, scale-patterned metallic corset that went over the top. I dug my fingers deep into Hermione’s hair, mussing and hopelessly tangling it so that it stuck up in every direction. I clipped a silly little fascinator on top of this mess and handed Hermione a pair of thigh-high dragonskin boots.

Hermione got a terrified look on her face as she examined the four-inch stiletto heels. The boots magically formed to her legs as she stepped into them, and she took a few cautious steps before giggling and giving me a relieved smile, “Weirdly, these are way easier to walk in than regular heels! Lots of ankle support!”

I allowed myself a minute to appreciate the sight of her in such an over-the-top getup. She caught me staring at her, and made a face, crossing her eyes and wagging her tongue out. “What?!” I laughed, “Let a man enjoy the view while he can! You’re about to get a lot less sexy in a minute!” I grabbed a metal flask out of the pocket of my fur-lined winter cloak, waving it in front of her face so that its contents sloshed around noisily. “Let’s get this over with then,” she sighed, grabbing one of the two empty water glasses on the bedside table.

She held it out to me, and I poured a carefully measured dose of potion, adding a single hair from an envelope I pulled from my vest. She swallowed the concoction like a shot, with a wretched grimace, and the changes began almost immediately. Within twenty seconds, the woman I loved was gone, replaced with the most despicable creature on the face of the earth.

When she smiled shyly up at me, a bolt of cold, pure fear shot straight through my heart. I had a momentary flash of the excruciating sensation of white-hot iron violating my insides. But I shook my head violently, cursing under my voice.

The expression of sympathy looked so freakishly out of place on Bellatrix’s face that I was finally able to suppress my fight-or-flight response, take Hermione’s hand, and proceed out of the bedroom. In less than a minute, we found ourselves marching through the doors of Gringotts Bank. Hermione stomped ahead of me on her four-inch heels, glaring around imperiously as I slumped behind her with an irritable and impatient expression on my face.

“Let us get this over with _quickly_ , please, Bella…” I drawled, “I have much better things to be doing than playing your pack mule…”

The goblins all avoided glancing down at us as we meandered through the high-ceilinged atrium, with the sole exception of the one at the very end of the hall, behind the tallest desk of all. Hermione sneered up at him, “I’d like to enter my vault.”

“Very well, Madame Lestrange. Please present your identification,” the ugly little blighter chirped.

She passed a knobby, jagged, unfinished-looking piece of wood across the desk. The goblin weighed the wand on a golden scale for a long moment before handing it back with a squeak of, “Very good, Madame. If you will both please follow me…”

Hermione had been dumbfounded by how easy it had been to get Bellatrix’s wand. The Dark Lord had simply glided down the hallway into the east wing of the manor, was gone for less than thirty seconds, then reappeared, twirling the stick between his fingers and whistling tunelessly. He had tossed it to Hermione before wandering off, and she just barely managed to catch it in her quivering hands.

Fortunately, her outward manner was perfectly aloof now as we rode the rickety little cart down into the deepest parts of the caverns. She reached for my hand in the dark, and our fingers intertwined. I could feel the nervous sweat on her palm, so I gave her a squeeze and an encouraging smile.

Her pallor was more than a little green as she stumbled woozily out of the cart when we finally arrived some ten minutes later. We didn’t try to speak as the goblin rang the Clackers, just covered our ears and sprinted across the open space to the bronze door of the vault. It loomed a good five meters above our heads, covered in countless magical gears and cogs, all of which were constantly in motion. The goblin raised a single finger, stroking it gently along a tiny plate of metal in the dead center of the door. Every last mechanism ground to a halt with a resounding “CLANG!” and the door slid upwards.

We didn’t speak until the door had slammed shut behind us. “So you’re sure there’s gonna be a horcrux in here?! It just seems like such a random spot to choose...” she murmured, lighting her own wand and gazing around in dismay at the piles of riches around us.

“Like I said, if he trusted her to protect the Sword of Gryffindor, I’m willing to bet a hundred galleons he’d trust her with one of the horcruxes too. Plus the Lestranges are one of the absolute oldest wizarding families in Europe, and one of the richest too. He’d see this vault as symbolic of the wizarding legacy he _wishes_ he was a part of,” I whispered hastily, reaching out and saving her from grabbing a silver necklace just in time. “Don’t touch **anything** ,” I hissed.

“Sorry!” she whispered sheepishly, tucking her hands into the pockets of the wildly expensive but threadbare cloak she wore. “So how are we supposed to know what it is when we see it?”

“Well we know from the memory of Hepzibah Smith that the Dark Lord possesses the Cup of Hufflepuff. So either _that_ or some item bearing the eagle of Ravenclaw, I would expect.”

It took us nearly a half-hour, but I finally spotted it, teetering precariously on top of a towering curio cabinet. I pulled on a magically-inert glove and stood on my toes, stretching to the very tips of my fingers to reach as far as I possibly could. I exalted with a loud, “YES!!” when I finally got my hand on it, and Hermione rushed over, pulling open a tiny, beaded handbag. I shoved the cup into the magically-extended bag, exceedingly careful not to let the metal brush against Hermione’s skin.

“I found the sword just a second ago, too! Come here, I’ll show you!”

“So is this one real or fake?” she asked as I was strapping the sheath to my leather belt.

“Fake, obviously. I wasn’t going to give him another piece of Hogwarts history to fuck up and turn into a Horcrux.”

“So the one in your office is real?”

“Obviously not, girl! Have you not been listening?! I couldn’t keep it anywhere the Dark Lord might get his hands on it! It’s in a chest in the attic of Grimmauld Place, by the way. You can use it to destroy horcruxes if I’m not around to use Fiendfyre,” I muttered to her as we carefully picked our way back through the piles to the entrance.

“What?! How is that possible?!” she gasped in disbelief.

I scoffed, “Do you or do you not still have the brain of Hermione Granger underneath that hideous masque?”

Her face scrunched up in concentration as she muttered, “Well, it’s goblin-made, meaning it absorbs everything that makes it stronger… Harry used it in his second year to kill the monster in the Chamber of Secrets, meaning it’s impregnated with hyper-corrosive Basilisk venom!”

“And...?” I asked leadingly.

“Basilisk venom is one of the few substances powerful enough to destroy a horcrux!” she laughed, shaking her head in embarrassment. “I don’t know how I didn’t work that out earlier!”

“It’s okay. You didn’t even have to consider it before. You had me around to take care of the horcruxes for you. But that may not always be the case,” I warned her.

“Hush. You know I hate it when you say stuff like that. Now come on- let’s get out of here. This place really gives me the creeps. I feel like the treasure is going to start multiplying and drown me or something...”


	41. I'm Slowly Turning Into You (Hermione)

I was strictly disinvited from attending Bellatrix’s tribunal and the subsequent New Year’s Revels. The Dark Lord had thought it only right that I be there to see her put to death, seeing as it was my ‘brilliant work’ that lead to Him ‘discovering her treachery’. But there was no way Severus was going to let that happen, and laid down the law- I wasn’t to be involved in _any_ of that rubbish until I was formally inducted. It was truly the most bizarre moment of my life when the Dark Lord and I gave each other knowing, exasperated looks over Severus’s shoulder.

So I was left to pace restlessly around the library for a day straight while the boys regularly begged me to sit down, have a drink, smoke a spliff- do literally **anything** **else** besides stomping endlessly back and forth across the little room. The only way I could judge the passing of time was by counting the number of meals they had consumed. Harry managed to needle me into taking a bite here or there, but I was way too nauseated to eat much.

I just didn’t know what to do with myself. It had been so long since I’d been without a project to dedicate my time to. I was reminded of the beginning of the summer- that interminable dreariness, the feeling of complete powerlessness, the rudderless drudgery…

When I heard the front door slam at 3 AM, a mere 28 hours after he had left, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Harry and Ron were asleep on the couch, so I slipped out of the library and sprinted up the stairs as quietly as I could manage.

I just barely managed to stifle a horrified scream as he turned around from hanging up his cloak on the coatrack. A large amount of blood was splattered across his face, and his skin was as grey as a corpse. The lines on his forehead and around his eyes gave him the expression of a beaten hound dog. I reached to wipe at the dried blood with my shirtsleeve and he whispered, “Don’t worry, it’s not mine…”

I was proud that my voice just barely shook when I asked, “Are you okay?”

“No… No. I’m never okay. But I’m uninjured.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Ten minutes later we were holding onto each other under the scalding stream of the third-floor shower. It was rather hot for me, but I could tell Severus was craving the purifying sensation of an insanely hot shower, so I just sucked it up. I lathered up a bunch of shampoo in my hands, and began to massage it into his scalp, then pulled it through his long locks with my fingers.

He shut his eyes in an expression of sheer ecstasy and finally began to speak, “He couldn’t just kill her, of course. That would’ve been too merciful… It took nearly half a day for her to die… I think it was asphyxiation that finally did it. He just let those motherfucking animals use her over and over and OVER… I couldn’t help thinking that she didn’t deserve it. Even after everything… Who deserves **that**?”

“SHE does,” I ground out passionately, shaking his shoulders and forcing him to look at me. “If anyone deserves to be raped to death, it’s Bellatrix Fucking Lestrange!! How many times has she done the same to you?!”

“It’s not the same...” he muttered.

“Of course it is!” I shouted, maybe a tad too passionately.

But he just shrugged and refused to talk about her anymore. Finally, I got the gist that he had snuck out before they were actually technically allowed to leave. He had been the star of the party, though, and was firmly in the Dark Lord’s good graces. So there would be little to no backlash against him for leaving early to return home to his ‘hot young plaything’.

Yeah... **apparently** , the word had gotten around about me. The story seemed to be that I was Severus’s brilliant young protégé/sex toy, and that I was responsible for uncovering an elaborate plot against the Dark Lord that was being spearheaded by the Lestranges. It had also become common knowledge that I was responsible for the death of Rodolphus Lestrange, among others. This was all the work of Lucius Malfoy- who seemed to have undertaken the bizarre role of PR Officer in our little secret club.

Lucius and Severus had managed to sneak off alone for over an hour, and were now more on the same page than ever before. Their shaky truce had evolved into a full-fledged alliance. Draco had apparently been instrumental in convincing his parents that Severus was their best hope for coming out on top, regardless of who ended up winning the war. So as bizarre as it sounds, Lucius was now head cheerleader of Team Hermione, since he was totally on board with our plan of installing myself and his wife as officers.

The only other person besides myself who seemed to realize how completely fucking weird everything had gotten was Ron. We filled in the boys on everything that had happened over breakfast the next morning, and Ron was left dumbfounded and red in the face, “Bloody **fucking** hell!!! I can’t even begin to picture Malfoy going around gossiping to all his Death Eater buddies about how awesome and pretty and cool that filthy mudblood Granger is…”

Severus rolled his eyes and sneered, “It’s not exactly like _that_ , Mister Weasley. It’s more like spreading rumors that she’s completely mind-blowing in the sack, and she murdered Lestrange and Selwyn in cold blood.”

I broke in, blushing furiously, “OKAY! Enough of that! Let’s focus on what’s important, shall we?!” I cleared my throat awkwardly before going on, “So we have four Horcruxes destroyed: the book, ring, locket, and cup. That leaves us with two: something from Ravenclaw, and something we don’t even have any ideas about… So let’s fix that! Brainstorm, everybody! What else matters to You-Know-Who?”

“Okay, so I know the horcruxes are super important and stuff, but I just can’t stop thinking about my Put-Outer…” Ron spoke up after a moment of silence.

“Whaddya mean?” Harry asked.

“Well, Dumbledore KNEW I would get captured, right? He knew I would need some way to escape from wards… So he left me the Put-Outer in his will! And he obviously tried to leave you the Sword of Gryffindor, Harry, so you could destroy Horcruxes…"

“So what is his reasoning for giving us the book and the snitch?” I finished for him.

“Exactly! What is so important about **those** items?!” Harry wondered.

“You children subscribe far more intention to that old man than he deserves,” Severus broke in quietly, startling us back into a sober silence, “What’s stuck in my craw in the person I saw in the corner of the Malfoys’ cellar when the Dark Lord and I had the sword examined by a goblin… It was Ollivander. The wand-maker. I’m sure of it.”

“But what would He want with a wand-maker? Surely his people don’t need new wands all that frequently…” I pondered aloud.

“I don’t believe he is being kept for his skills. I believe it is his knowledge the Dark Lord desires.”

“I bet You-Know-Who wants to find out what happened with my wand this summer!” Harry shouted excitedly, jumping to his feet and knocking his chair to the ground. “He knows I didn’t cast a spell that night! My wand did those golden flames by itself! My wand recognized him and fought him on its own, and he wants to understand why!”

“But that’s impossible!” I dismissed him, “Wands don’t do magic on their own.”

“Agree to disagree. Point is, You-Know-Who is gonna be looking for a better wand- a wand that isn’t linked to mine…”

“The only wand that could possibly be better than the one that chose him as a child is the Elder Wand! What, you think he’s going to apparate onto the pages of a fairy tale?!” Severus scoffed. “Hermione was right before. We need to focus on the horcruxes. The rest of this is meaningless distraction.”


	42. Behind Blue Eyes (Severus)

The first days of the new year were spent plotting Hermione’s initiation into the Death Eaters. She had to make about a dozen lists and draw all sorts of diagrams and graphs before she finally had me going along with her scheme. The boys, of course, were of absolutely no help whatsoever. They had taken to futzing endlessly with the snitch and Beedle the Bard, drinking vast quantities of beer, and positing progressively stranger and stranger hypotheses.

I called an emergency meeting of the Order on January the Third. I have never been more terrified in all my life than those moments immediately prior to informing Minerva McGonagall that her prize Gryffindor was going to take the Mark. Even with Hermione next to me arguing her case, everyone was utterly convinced that I was forcing her into it.

It was only the endless hours of Potter’s steadfast support that turned the tide in our favor. I had no doubt that the professors would have sooner stunned her and locked her in a dungeon classroom for the next six months than allow her to complete her own plan. But once she had laid out our ideas for the trap, the others couldn’t help but get excited about the possibilities.

The idea of using muggle weaponry was so off the wall as to be unthinkable to the average wizard. Which is why Hermione’s idea was so genius. Even with the signs of our trap right in front of his eyes, the Dark Lord would never recognize them.

It took nearly six hours to arrange, and I sank into a chair in bone-deep exhaustion when the Order finally began to file out of the Dining Room. Most of them followed Molly down to the kitchen for a late dinner, but Dumbledore, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and myself remained. Hermione perched on my knee, and Dumbledore didn’t so much as blink an eye.

I watched the aged wizard insolently for a long time before I finally muttered, “So, Albus, you choose to repay me for saving your life by putting yourself back in danger?”

“Saved my life, hmm? Is that what you’ve decided to call it? Seems to me like you’ve simply lengthened my suffering…” he smiled calmly at me across the table.

“I was in an impossible situation! I did what I had to do!” I spat, suddenly furious.

“You know very little of impossible situations, young man,” he whispered in a clear tone of warning.

“DON’T I?! I’m afraid I must DISAGREE!!” I bellowed, slamming my fist on the tabletop so hard it rattled the doors in their frames.

“Listen, why don’t we all just calm down before we cast something we might regret, eh?” Harry piped up, striding over to toss something on the table. The ancient book fell open to a title page, ‘THE TALE OF THE THREE BROTHERS’.

“So Ron and I were looking through this book two days ago, right? And when we were reading **this** story, it reminded me of what you said, Professor Snape, about You-Know-Who needing the Elder Wand. I know you meant it as a joke, but the coincidence just seemed like too much to ignore. Then yesterday I noticed THIS-” he exclaimed, pointing at a little symbol that had been inked in by hand- like a weird, triangular eye.

“I believe you owe the children some explanations,” I said curtly, raising an eyebrow at the wily warlock.

“Very well... “ he sighed, shifting around to get comfortable and rearranging his beard, obviously preparing for a lengthy conversation.

“That symbol is the Sign of The Deathly Hallows. I assume you have heard of them?” he looked pointedly at Hermione and myself. We both nodded, and he continued, “Most educated people believe the Hallows to be no more than a myth. A child’s fairy tale. It doesn’t help that Beedle heard the story and was the first person to write it down and perform it for the masses.”

“But they ARE myths! I mean, magical items created by Death himself?! It’s utter hogwash!” Hermione spluttered, looking back at me for support.

“Well, that part is clearly myth,” he chuckled good-naturedly, “They were almost certainly created by three very powerful wizards. Many who quest for the Hallows believe those three wizards to be none other than the brothers Peverell- Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus- distant ancestors of yours, Harry.”

“What are you saying?” the black-haired boy asked carefully.

“You haven’t ever wondered why your Cloak of Invisibility is so perfect? Have you ever heard of such a thing before? The Cloak your father wore as a boy somehow still possesses flawless powers of concealment decades later? Miss Granger? Mister Weasley? Master Snape? Have YOU ever heard of such?” His eyes twinkled merrily at us as we shook our heads.

“So you’re saying my dad’s cloak is a _Deathly Hallow_?” Harry asked incredulously, brows raised in disbelief. “If that’s the case, then he should still be alive today, right?! If he had a tool powerful enough to hide him from death _itself_!”

The joy fell off the old man’s face immediately. “Oh gods, I’ve just remembered…” he whispered with a haunted look in his eyes. “It was my fault… I had his cloak when Voldemort came for them… I suspected it was a Hallow, so I had been performing experiments on it… Oh sweet Merlin!”

A single tear fell down a wrinkled cheek as Harry shouted, “What are you talking about?!”

“In my youth, I fell in love with a beautiful, brilliant young man. I introduced him to the legend, convinced him to research them with me, schemed about all the ways we would rule the world together… But something happened… I can’t recall what exactly… And we were forced to separate.”

“I didn’t see Gellert Grindelwald again for nearly half a century. And when I faced him in that final battle, I recognized the wand in his hand immediately…”

“It seemed so silly that it would look like the pictures in the book, but it actually did…”

“I only won because he made a mistake. He was overconfident… He had always been that way...”

“And I was nearly able to forget about the Quest for another fifty years, but then I heard through the Order grapevine that James possessed a singularly powerful cloak. I couldn’t help myself. I had to see it. And then he was suddenly forced into hiding, and I was unable to return it in time. I am so sorry, Harry. Words simply cannot express the unfathomable depth of my regret.” I had never heard my mentor’s voice sound more beaten in all my life, even at the very darkest point of the last war.

Harry just wiped the tears off his glasses with his undershirt and grunted roughly, “ ‘S fine. There’s no way for us to know if it could’ve saved them.” I could tell that Dumbledore disagreed, but didn’t see anything to be gained by arguing with the boy.

“Those damned Hallows have brought NOTHING but suffering to my life. I wanted to be the ‘Master of Death’… but I was too young and ignorant to see the truth in the Tale of the Three Brothers: the only true master of death is the man who faces the end of his life peacefully and without fear in his heart. The only way to defeat Death is to embrace him with open arms.”

No one seemed to have anything else to say, so they each took turns embracing the old man before Hermione took the boys by the hand and led them out of the dining room. I have no idea how long Albus and I just sat there watching each other after that. When it began I was full of rage and bitterness- unable to understand how he could possibly live with himself after destroying so many lives, using so many innocent people as his pawns, sacrificing person after person to the cause… _to the greater good_.

But the longer I looked at him, the more the facade began to crumble away. He finally allowed that false little twinkle to die, and I saw the immense sadness and exhaustion behind those blue eyes.

They were the eyes of a man who had seen more death, and felt more pain, and mourned longer and harder than anyone else alive.

They were the eyes of a man who was haunted by more ghosts than he could count.

They were the eyes of a man who was sick.

Sick of fighting.

Sick of death.

Sick of life.

_This is why generals should die young._

I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he pulled the little glass vial out of the pocket of his heavily beaded robes. “Will you stay with me Severus? Stay with me until the end?” he whispered.

“Of course, old man,” I said gruffly, coming around the table to place my hands reassuringly on his narrow shoulders.

He uncorked the vial one-handed, holding it surprisingly steady at eye-level. “I’ve remembered now. Why I couldn’t see Gellert anymore… We killed Ariana, Severus. We killed my baby sister. Me, him, and Aberforth. We were fighting… and she got in the middle. Oh Severus, how have I managed to live with myself all these years?!” he wept then, lying face down on the heavily scarred wooden table.

I gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze, but I knew there was nothing I could do for him. “You did what you could, Albus. You did the best you could. Of course you made mistakes. Some of them were catastrophic, yes. And some weren’t! That’s the way of things. But you did what you could.”

He nodded, sniffing resolutely and sitting straight up in his chair, “You’re right Severus. What’s done is done. I played my role. I fought my battles. And now I can rest. Goodbye, my boy. Be good to Hermione. I can’t tell you how much it has warmed my heart the past year to know that at least one good thing has come out of all this mess…”

He brought the vial to his lips, and tossed it back, smacking his lips noisily. He made a small noise of contentment, and his eyes slid closed. “Love you, old man. Sleep tight…” I whispered as my silent tears fell into his smooth, grey hair, and his chest gradually stilled.


	43. Madness (Hermione)

The Order held a small memorial the next day at Grimmauld Place. It was a quiet affair, but not nearly as melancholy as it could have been. Everyone felt like they’d gotten a chance to say their goodbyes; plus it was nice knowing that he passed peacefully and got to choose when it happened. I sat next to Severus through the whole service and tried to hold his hand a couple times, but he wouldn’t allow it. I was ready to come out to the rest of the Order about us, but he obviously wasn’t there yet. I contented myself with the knowledge he had taken the big step of changing the enchantments on our rings so they were visible to everyone.

Dumbledore had left the Elder Wand to Severus, but he refused to even attempt to use it. Instead, he carried it around inside his sleeve next to his own as a sort of talisman, or a friend to keep his own wand company.

We had been summoned by the Dark Lord late that evening, so we were forced to leave everyone who had gathered for the wake.

Many of the adults had approached me throughout the course of the day with last-ditch attempts to change my mind. At first I tried to reassure them that I knew what I was doing, but by the sixth or seventh person, it just got to be annoying. I snapped at Remus that I bloody well knew what I was getting into, and I didn’t need him or anyone else up my arse about it. Lupin looked extremely taken aback, and wandered off muttering to himself that I had been spending way too much time with Snape.

Severus was whispering frantically into my ear the entire walk through Malfoy manor, “Now my guess is that he’s likely summoned us for a reward. Remember when I came back to the castle insanely high last spring? It’ll be that spell, or something similar to it. Now, as you know, that family of narcotic charms all have extremely acute sexual side-effects. Which is why He loves them. You’ll probably begin to have powerful urges almost immediately. You need to fight them, try to Occlude them away, or you’ll end up doing things you regret…”

“But that’s what He wants, right?” I whispered back.

“Of course it is! He loves having his servants ‘perform’ for him! But obviously there’s no fucking way that’s happening…”

“Why not? It’ll impress him, make him like me more, right?”

“Of course! It would be near-incontrovertible proof of your suitability as a Death Eater! But it’s not. fucking. happening!” he hissed furiously as we stood outside the door of the Grand Ballroom.

“If it’s what He wants- we’ll do it,” I stated assertively, then reached out and turned the handle before he could argue back.

The Dark Lord was lounging in an elaborate, throne-like armchair as we entered the cavernous room. The snake Nagini was curled up on his lap like a pekinese, with her heavy upper body strewn comfortably across his shoulders. I’ve always found myself slightly creeped out by snakes, and I couldn’t stop staring at her enormous, hot pink, forked tongue, slipping in and out of her lips to taste the air every few seconds. And it didn’t help that her gigantic, slit pupils watched me everywhere I went.

We fell to our knees, and I followed Severus’s lead, crawling forward to kiss the hem of His robes. We backed off to a healthy distance before rising to our feet. “Good evening, children. I trust I find you well?” the Dark Lord inquired, scratching Nagini absently under the chin.

“Quite well, My Lord,” Severus murmured back, but I was too busy staring at the snake to reply. He elbowed me pointedly, and I stuttered out, “Yes, My Lord, very well!”

The warlock smirked at me across the large open space between us, “It seems our little Gryffindor is afraid of serpents...”

“My apologies, Sir… she just… tends to draw the eye…” I stammered, knowing that an overt display of nervousness would flatter him.

“No worries. I have no desire to see my new favorite uncomfortable in my presence tonight…” he purred amusedly, then locked eyes with Nagini. She stared at him for a split-second, then immediately began gliding- slowly, ponderously, heavily- off the chair and across the highly-polished wooden dance floor. The three of us watched her slow progress, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief when the tip of her tail finally slipped through a special hole that had been cut in the door for her.

“Now that our beautiful Miss Granger can finally relax… Tell me, girl, how would you like your initiation as a Death Eater to be next week… Let’s say… the eleventh of January? Or is that too soon?” he asked with a shrewd, discomfiting little grin.

His smile grew when I replied with quiet passion, “Quite the opposite, Sir. If anything, I wish it were sooner.”

“Well, well… This little situation here has **certainly** exceeded my wildest expectations. When you told me last year that you were going to seduce Harry Potter’s best friend, I thought you had finally lost your mind, Severus. Surely any girl good and pure enough to befriend the _Chosen One_ ,” he hissed mockingly, “would want nothing to do with slimy git such as yourself. Clearly, I have underestimated your abilities once again.”

I couldn’t help myself, and I broke in before Severus could reply, “On the contrary, My Lord. If anything, it was I who seduced him. Look into our minds. You’ll see it to be true.”

The Dark Lord cackled, clapping his long-nailed hands together gleefully, “Oh I DO LOVE HER SO!! Well done, Severus, well done… I haven’t met a young girl so well-suited to serving me since, well… since I found Bellatrix herself!” This compliment stung me deep down inside, but I kept my confident smile plastered on my face. “I can see you’re going to be an EXCELLENT addition to my ranks!!!” he crowed exultantly, then gave his wand a casual flick in our direction…

 

I dragged my eyelids open with a concerted effort, and I didn’t know whether fifteen minutes or an hour had passed. My body was continually flooded by wave after wave of sheer pleasure, to the point where I questioned if I was even still alive or if I had literally died and gone to ‘heaven’.

My muscles were weak and sluggish, and it took every ounce of resolve in my body to push myself up into a sitting position. Severus was already awake, sprawled on his back and staring up at the enormous crystal chandelier with a blissful expression on his face. “So shiny...” he murmured, chuckling quietly to himself.

It felt like the gravity in the room had been doubled, and it took me forever to crawl over to him. A gigantic smile overtook his face as I threw my leg across his hips and climbed on top of him. “There’s my girl!” he cried gleefully, reaching to pull me into an intense snog.

The feeling of his tongue in my mouth was like nothing I had ever experienced before… so velvety… and he tasted like Turkish Delight… or a sweet, crisp white wine…

I was completely drunk on the endorphins flooding my body...

I realized that I had been making a series of increasingly more desperate noises in the back of my throat, and I had gotten his Death Eater robes completely open without even realizing it.

“Hermione…?” he whispered questioningly when I lowered my mouth to lay frantic bites and kisses down his throat. He let out an involuntary moan when I pressed against him, rubbing myself teasingly against his erection.

“Shut up,” I advised him as climbed off and squeezed his rock-hard length through the fabric of his trousers.

He shook his head frantically, but didn’t actually make any move to stop me as I pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees. “Shh…” I whispered, reaching forward to place a single finger over his lips, “Just relax and go with it…”

I ran my tongue all along his cock, wetting him completely, as he watched me with rapt attention. I pumped my fist up and down his length a couple dozen times while I took his balls in my mouth, gently rolling them around and massaging them with my tongue.

He groaned quietly, tangling his hands in my hair, and I heard a similar noise from over on my left-hand side. I refused to glance over, not wanting to ruin my good mood.

I returned his cock to my mouth, pushing myself onto him with enough force to make my body revolt. Extra-viscous saliva welled out of the back of my throat as my body began to give into the nausea. I coughed and gagged, tears streaming down my face, eyes stinging with melted mascara, as I abused my throat with his impossibly rigid cock. I could feel my stomach muscles suddenly clench, and I backed off him just in time.

“Hermione, you have to stop…” Severus whispered as I crawled on top of him, attempting to wipe some of the smeared makeup out of my eyes with his sleeve.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done…” I teased, grinning at him through my swollen lips.

I reached around my hip, taking him in my hand and experimentally stroking him a couple times. I was relieved that I had managed to get him so well-lubricated. “Mmm…” he sighed blissfully, as his head fell back to the floor and his eyes closed.

I pulled up the bottom of my black dress, revealing that I hadn’t worn any knickers for our meeting. I reached around with my other hand, spreading my arsecheeks as wide as I could. I heard a loud grunt from the masturbating Dark Lord, since he had the perfect view- right down main street.

The narcotic spell had loosened all of my muscles, so the head of Severus’s dick slid into my bum with little-to-no-effort.

His eyes flew back open, and an expression of pure, unadulterated disbelief clouded his features as I pushed my hips backwards, forcing more of his cock into my impossibly tight hole.

I concentrated on my breathing, trying to ignore my screaming muscles. The pain had been deadened significantly by all the dopamine flooding my body, but it was still uncomfortable.

I had a sudden moment of inspiration.

I pushed DOWN with all the muscles in my lower body, just like I did when Severus made me ejaculate.

And, miraculously, the rest of him slid right into me.

His hips pushed up against me frantically, urging me to move. “Oh dear gods…” Severus moaned loudly, grasping me around the waist and forcing me into a up-and-down motion.

I had never managed to fit his entire length inside me before, so I knew this had to be absolute heaven for him...

I rubbed furiously at my clitoris as my body quickly adjusted to the bizarre sensation of being stuffed so incredibly full…

I could feel my orgasm mounting, and I put on a good show for the men- gasping, and shouting, and crying, as the most intense sensations imaginable wracked my body…

Once I had regained control of my limbs, I carefully moved myself, rotating 180 degrees with Severus’s cock still tightly clenched inside me. I was now facing the Dark Lord, and giving Severus the best view of his life. I rocked slowly back and forth on my knees, sliding myself along his straining member, as I stared intently into Voldemort’s eyes. He leered at me predatorily as his hand positively flew along his thin, impossibly long dick.

I made the Dark Lord come first, but only barely. It was my filthy, rambling stream of consciousness that finally put the perverted men over the edge, “Oh gods, that cock in my ass feels so amazing… I’ve never been filled so much in all my life… You love it, don’t you, Severus? You’re so enormous that my tight little girl pussy can’t fit you inside… And my poor, virginal throat can’t handle you either… I’ve always felt so inadequate, being unable to fully please my master… But now I can… And I don’t even care that it hurts. I just want to please you, Master. I want you to fill up all my holes with your spunk till I’m overflowing with it. I want you to use me like a toy. I’d be perfectly happy chained to your bed for the rest of my life… Just being used and abused by your every whim, Master…”

The sensation of my rectum filling with his seed was just as disgusting as last time, but I found myself bizarrely aroused by it.

I could feel it dripping between my cheeks as I helped Severus pull up his trousers and climb to his feet.

The Dark Lord had thankfully tucked himself back into his robes by the time we knelt unsteadily before him. We scrambled forward to kiss his robes, and he waved us off with a chilling, “Thank you for an exceedingly pleasant evening, Miss Granger. I think you’re going to make a delightful addition to our Revels.” I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just politely thanked him, then Severus and I practically sprinted out of the Ballroom.


	44. I Want You/ She's So Heavy (Severus)

I knew it was unfair, but I couldn’t help but feel a little distant from Hermione the next couple of days. I just couldn’t process what had happened. What she’d done. How much she had enjoyed it… How much **_I_ ** had enjoyed it… Because no matter how noble I had tried to pretend to be- that had been the hottest fucking experience of my entire life.

Every time an image of her with my cock shoved into her tight little bum popped into my head, I got the most painful raging hard-on that wouldn’t go away for hours unless it was taken care of, and the blue balls I’d get when I ignored it were even worse. I swore the spell had other lingering aftereffects too, as Hermione’s own sexual reservations continued to be incredibly low. One evening she accidently walked in on me, beating off furiously, in the first floor restroom. I had gotten a glimpse of her ass in her low-cut jeans when she had bent over to pick up something in the kitchen, and my cock had absolutely refused to chill out since then.

There were four different Order members in the house, and this bathroom didn’t have a lock, but she fell to the floor the second she saw my cock in my hands. She crawled across the tile on her hands and knees to where I sat on the edge of the tub. She gave me a big smile, then sat back on her heels and opened her mouth obligingly.

I couldn’t resist such a perfectly polite request, so I took two big fistfuls of her hair and pulled her down onto my cock. She didn’t gag as much as last time, and actually succeeded at deep-throating me a handful of times before she had to stop, lest she upchuck all over me.

She stood up suddenly, turning her back to me and pulling her jeans down to her ankles. She wasn’t wearing any panties again, and I muttered, “Filthy fucking slut.” She grinned at me around her shoulder as she bent her knees and stuck out her hips…

She sat on me, lining us up so that my cock could slide right into her arse as she slowly lowered herself. She let out a tiny squeak of pain as she finally settled onto my lap. “Mmm… that’s my good little girl…” I sighed when she gradually began to sway her hips, holding on to the edge of the sink to keep her balance.

“Do you like that, Daddy?” she asked teasingly, watching my face over her shoulder.

“Ohhh gods… that’s sooo creepy…” I moaned as she started to bounce gently on my dick.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you Daddy?” she whispered, eyes glittering with mirth.

I just nodded my head deliriously as her movements grew to a frantic pace. She was practically slamming herself onto my cock now, making me more than a little nervous that she was going to injure one of us. “You love being in my tight little asshole, don’t you Daddy? You love when your sweet, innocent girl degrades herself for you.”

“GODDAMNIT!!!!” I shouted as semen exploded out of me so forcefully that I popped out of her. Hermione was frantically trying to shove me back inside her before I was completely spent when the bathroom door flew open…

The three of us screamed in unison as Lupin covered his eyes, groping blindly for the doorknob to close it again. “Sorry! Sorry! I heard someone yell!” he stammered, finally succeeding in finding the door, slamming it loudly before hurriedly stomping away down the hallway.

I was having a minor breakdown as I stuffed myself back into my pants. Hermione, on the other hand, was laughing uproariously, “For fuck’s sake! Why can’t we do _anything_ in this stupid house without being interrupted?!”

“How can you be so amused by this?!” I demanded, right on the verge of hysteria.

“Well, it wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as being caught by Harry and Ron. Plus, this takes care of coming out to everybody. Remus will have spread it around the house by the time we’ve left this bathroom! Every single person in the Order will know within the hour!”

“ **That’s** what I’m freaking out about!” I cried, pulling furiously at the still-patchy beard Hermione had requested I start growing a few days before.

“What’s the big deal? Based purely on the state he caught us in... there’s no way anyone could interpret _that_ as you _forcing_ me!”

“The issue is that I don’t want everyone in the Order assuming I’m some kind of creepy paedophile! All that stuff you were yelling just now… doesn’t exactly paint me in the best light!!” I shouted, gesticulating wildly.

She looked at me mournfully then, taking my left hand in both of hers, “I’m really sorry, Severus. I never want to give anyone a negative impression of you. You’re the kindest, most wonderful man I’ve ever met. And everyone who knows the real you is fully aware of this. You have Madame Pomfrey, and Harry, and Professor McGonagall to defend you at least. And TIME will tell the truth, right? When we’re still together ten years from now, everyone will know that it wasn’t my age that attracted you.”

I shrugged, mumbling, “I don’t know why this bothers me so much more than everything else… I mean, half of the Order isn’t even convinced that I’m working for our side. Remus and Sirius spent months trying to convince everyone I was a ‘triple agent’. Out of everything, being attracted to a gorgeous teenage girl is probably the least despicable thing they believe about me...”

 

It turned out that Hermione was correct in that it _was_ somewhat of a relief not being forced to watch my words and actions around her. But the piercing glares I constantly endured from Molly, Arthur, Kingsley, and some others really stung. I felt a weird desire to apologize to everyone (apologize for _what_ exactly, I couldn’t tell you).  All in all, it was mostly a relief to return to the castle on January 6th.

Hermione and I were able to keep in constant contact with the magic notebook I had given her for her birthday, but it wasn’t nearly enough. I had gotten spoiled, and now it was nearly impossible for me to fall asleep without her curled up on my chest. Furthermore, my cock didn’t seem to have gotten the memo that Hermione wasn’t around anymore, and was just as persistent as ever.

I took to writing long, extraordinarily dirty missives in my notebook, which Hermione would return with interest. It wasn’t nearly enough to quell my desires, but at least it was something.

And it was comforting to know that if she was in any sort of danger, my ring would alert me immediately. One of the worst parts of the summer had been knowing that something horrible could happen to her, and I wouldn’t be around to help. I was pretty sure the incident in my bedroom with Wormtail that summer had traumatized me worse than it had her.

My back and arms were killing me, so I was forced to take one of Hermione’s muggle pain pills before I left for her initiation on the evening of the Eleventh. Myself, Arthur, Lupin, and Kingsley had been digging holes in the frozen ground for two nights straight after my dumb ass convinced them that the Dark Lord might notice the traces of magic if we used our wands. We had barely managed to complete the preparations in time, whereas Hermione had successfully finished her task well ahead of schedule, as per usual.

I couldn’t imagine where she’d managed to get her hands on over a dozen pressure-cookers at such short notice, not to mention the _other_ ingredients, but I didn’t question it. As always, I just assumed there was some mild-to-moderate law-breaking going on with the Golden Trio.

She simply never ceased to amaze me. She didn’t even have complete instructions on how to assemble the damn things, just bits and pieces gleaned from various sources. But she reported through the notebook that she’d tested one inside an ultra-powerful bubble jinx, and it had worked like a charm.

I was feeling dazed from the Percocet (and was more than a bit spacey from all the weed I had smoked to calm my nerves) as I took my place in the Inner Circle. We had assembled in a little clearing in the Forest of Dean upon Hermione’s special request. The Dark Lord had been more than happy to oblige her. He’s always had a flair for the dramatic, and the snow-blanketed clearing, spotted here and there with glittering, frozen ponds, was absolutely stunning.

The snow was disturbed in a number of places, weirdly mounded here and there, which should have set off the Death Eaters’ suspicions. But when all their scans returned no traces of magic, they simply disregarded the piles. I noticed a couple of idiots standing directly on them, and smirked darkly behind my masque. Hermione was the second-to-last to arrive, and loitered awkwardly outside the third circle until He apparated into the dead center.

Nagini slid off his shoulders and curled up on a rock at the edge of the inner circle, moving exceedingly slowly in the freezing cold. The Dark Lord crooked his finger towards Hermione, and the circles broke rank to allow her entrance. I heard two or three jeers of “filthy mudblood!” as she strode confidently through the crowd, but a venomous hiss from Nagini shut them up.

I felt like I could pass out any moment as I swayed dizzily in my spot. My sense of unreality was so intense that I repeatedly pinched myself, convinced that this had to be a nightmare. I noticed vaguely that two sets of footprints trailed behind Hermione, and I wasn’t the only one to see them. The people on either side of me were whispering frantically to their neighbors, “It’s a trick!”

Hermione fell to her knees in the thick snow, soaking her leggings and cloak as she crawled forward to kiss the hem of His robes. Cries of alarm were sounding in every direction as He demanded she explain herself. She rose to her feet, grinning devilishly as she turned her back to Him. She reached into the void behind her…


	45. Psycho (Hermione)

Gasps and cries of alarm rang out as I yanked the Invisibility Cloak off of Harry. He simply stood there, staring blankly forward, as the Dark Lord laughed and clapped his skeletal hands. “Oh, very well done, Miss Granger! Incredible! Truly fantastic! Imperiused, is he?!!”

“Yes, My Lord. I just wanted to bring a little present to prove my undying loyalty to you. I trust you are pleased?” I smiled charmingly around the circle, wishing I could see the expressions behind the masques. Someone in the Inner Circle began to clap, and soon nearly everyone had joined in. Thunderous applause echoed ominously through the overgrown forest for nearly five minutes before He raised his hand for silence.

“Well, _typically_ , there is a trial aspect involved in a new Death Eater’s initiation, but you’ve clearly voided that requirement, my dear Hermione!” he announced pleasurably. The sound of my name on his lips gave me a horrified shiver down the spine, but I kept the bright smile plastered on my face. “No task I could assign you could possibly trump the impressiveness of **this** feat. So it is my extraordinary pleasure to extend this formal invitation to you…”

At his instruction, I knelt before him, rolling up the left sleeve of my cloak and holding out my hand. His thin fingers gripped my wrist with surprising gentleness as he placed the tip of his wand to the pale underside of my arm.

“Will you, Hermione Jean Granger, vow to serve me?”

“I will.” I projected clearly and loudly, so that even the people in the third circle could hear my words. Green flames leapt from the tip of his wand, and I barely stifled a scream of alarm.

“Will you, Hermione Jean Granger, perform any task I assign you, even at risk to your own life?”

“I will.” The flames turned black, and the sensation of my arm being engulfed in cold fire intensified.

“Will you, Hermione Jean Granger, exist at my beck and call, forsaking your needs and desires to serve my own?”

“I will.” The flames flickered and died, leaving a screaming-red burn in the shape of a skull with a serpent as a tongue. He reached into his robes, pulling out a small jar filled with some sort of black powder. He unscrewed the jar, then carefully sprinkled the entire contents across the burned arm I still held out for him.

I stifled my squeals of pain, practically chewing through my lower lip, as he used his fingertips to massage the powder into my wound. He was extremely fastidious, and it took nearly five minutes until he was pleased with the look of my new tattoo. He had been employing some sort of dark magic as he rubbed the powder into my skin; through my fog of pain, I was impressed in a distant, academic way with the process that he had clearly invented and perfected himself. He coated the arm with a healing salve, then placed an invisible bandage charm over the wound. He offered his left hand to me, and I took it with my right.

He helped me to my feet, but kept my hand clutched in his own ice-cold one. He held my gaze for a long moment, pointed teeth grinning with surprisingly genuine-seeming warmth, then placed a lingering kiss to the top of my hand. He turned to the circle, holding my hand aloft as he cried, “It is my great pleasure to present to you, your new Death Eater and **_MY_ ** new Officer, Hermione Granger!”

Cheers and whistles rang out, but quickly turned to panicked shouts as Harry suddenly moved, reaching into his robes and pulling out a metal device with a single large, green button on it. He slammed his fist onto the button as I pointed my wand at him. “CRUCIO!!!” I screeched, and he slumped to the ground, twitching and convulsing dramatically, as explosions boomed deafeningly in every direction.

I ‘released’ Harry from the ‘curse’ as I hastily erected an Ebublio jinx around the Dark Lord and myself. Harry’s hand snatched for his Invisibility Cloak where it lay on the ground beside him, grasping it in a tight fist, before he winked out of existence. The Dark Lord was screaming maniacally, casting curse after curse at the bubble, but nothing would go through.

“Stop, My Lord! It’s protecting us from the bombs!” I screamed at the top of my voice as the ground quaked, and rocks and huge clods of frozen dirt skittered across the surface of the bubble.

“What is happening?!” he screeched, pacing around the edge of the protective jinx, watching helplessly as his Death Eaters were torn limb-from-limb by my Improvised Explosive Devices. Enormous blood splatters painted the snow all around us, and most of the ice sheets on the ponds had collapsed. Some people were struggling to pull themselves out with crippled limbs, while others had managed to escape, but were now in shivering heaps of soaking wet robes, desperately trying to dry themselves with damaged wands.

“The Order must have been spying on me!! Those motherfuckers set me up!!!” I howled, furiously ripping out handfuls of my hair. “I’m so sorry, My Lord! And I lost Potter! I had him under the Cruciatus curse… but I had to let him go to protect you! I’m so sorry! So sorry…” I fell to his feet, grasping the bottom of his robes like a needy child.

“Never you mind. It wasn’t your fault, girl…” he muttered, patting his hand on the top of my head in an awkward imitation of a soothing gesture. “You saved my life with your quick thinking. You have served me well, and you will get your revenge soon enough.”

“Thank you, My Lord, thank you!” I pretended to weep joyful tears, burying my face in the wet sleeves of my cloak. “I’ll make him pay for this! I’ll make him fucking RUE the day he was sorted into Gryffindor with me!!”


	46. Something For Nothing (Severus)

Against my better judgement, I found myself extraordinarily impressed with how perfectly Hermione’s plan had gone. It was a brutal attack by anyone’s standards… When the final body count came in days later, sixteen Death Eaters had lost their lives to various cocktails of concussion, edema, excessive blood loss, internal hemorrhaging, hypothermia, and shock. Nearly a dozen people lost limbs, most of which weren’t brought into St. Mungo’s quickly enough to be reattached.

An unexpected benefit thinned the Death Eater ranks yet further- a not-insignificant handful of the Dark Lord’s followers simply turned tail and ran. They just grabbed their families (some didn’t even bother with that) and left the country as fast as they could. It seemed that they were all for torturing helpless victims, but once their _own_ hides were in danger, they couldn’t take the heat.

I had managed to protect myself by apparating away a half-second before Harry hit the button, then reappearing, lying buried in the snow, a minute later once the explosions had abated. I smeared one of my dead comrade’s blood all over my face and moved with an exaggerated limp as I stumbled over to where Hermione and the Dark Lord stood in the center of the fractured circle. She dropped her protective enchantment when she saw me coming, running over to leap into my arms.

A stranger’s blood smeared across her cheeks as she pressed a frantic kiss to my lips, “I’m so glad you’re okay! I was suh-suh-so terrified!!” She pretended to bawl into the front of my robes as I wrapped her inside my cloak.

“She’s traumatized, My Lord. Please, may I take her home?” I begged, looking over at him with desperation in my eyes.

“Of course, Severus my boy, take good care of her,” he waved us away, then strode to the nearest body, casting diagnostic charms on it as he walked.

The second we got through the door at Grimmauld, Hermione pushed me against the wall and stuck her tongue down my throat. I pushed her away after a couple mindblowing minutes to see that water was streaming silently down her face. “Oh, Hermione…” I whispered, cupping her cheeks in my palms and wiping away her tears with my thumbs.

She began to cry in earnest then, and I held her to my chest, rocking her gently and humming a soothing song to her. “We did what we had to. They knew they were putting their lives at risk when they joined the Death Eaters… And if they didn’t, then they were fucking idiots and deserved to die anyway!” I joked darkly.

She huffed with involuntary laughter, glaring up at me with her blood-shot, swollen eyes, “Damnit, Severus!”

“What? A little graveyard humor never hurt anybody!” I teased, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. I was immensely relieved to see her showing her humanity once again, but I wasn’t going to tell **her** that.

“I was trying to be strong and disconnected like you… It was just so hard… All the blood and screams and…” she trailed off, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“Hermione, that stuff fucks me up too…” I murmured soothingly in her ear. “I just had to learn to internalize my emotions when I was little, so I can’t express them as well as you can. It’s a good thing that you feel this way. It means you’re human. It means you’re not Him…”

She nodded firmly, “Yeah... Yeah, you’re right. I just need to use this as motivation to end the war even quicker. The sooner He’s dead, the fewer people I need to hurt.”

“Good attitude,” I complimented her, taking her hand and leading her downstairs to our little bedroom. “Which leads to our next question… what the fuck are his last two horcruxes?”

She pulled off all her clothes and climbed right into bed, beckoning me to join her. I really needed to get back to Hogwarts that night, but I couldn’t bring myself to care when I had a hot naked girl right in front of me.

“So earlier I was lying in bed, thinking about the night of our little reward…” she purred alluringly as I stripped and tried to remove the blood from my face with a Cleansing charm. I paused immediately, looking over at her with interest. She wagged her finger at me, giggling adorably, “Dirty mind. I was _thinking_ about how You-Know-Who was, like, telepathically controlling his snake.”

I scratched at my beard thoughtfully, “Yes, his relationship with Nagini is highly extraordinary… I’ve never seen such a thing. He goes beyond a typical Parselmouth… He doesn’t just speak to her. He CONTROLS her. And I swear he can spy on people through her eyes.”

“Is it even _possible_ to have a living creature as a horcrux?” she gave me a revolted look.

“Let us just say it is NOT recommended. Putting a piece of your soul inside something that can think and move around on its own is considered highly unwise. Though the Dark Lord has never been one for conventional wisdom… You’re also not supposed to divide your soul into SEVEN fucking parts…” I scoffed derisively.

“No kidding. So if we are to assume that the snake is one… That leaves the Ravenclaw thing. What do you think it is?”

“I’m fairly certain there’s only one thing it could possibly be…” I said hesitantly.

She nodded her head in agreement, “Same here… I mean, there were other relics associated with Rowena Ravenclaw, but all of them disappeared CENTURIES ago. The only thing that _anyone_ has claimed to own in the last two hundred years is the diadem…”

“He probably convinced the Grey Lady to tell him where it was hidden. She’s Helena Ravenclaw, by the way-” “NO WAY!!” she interjected, but I just ignored her. “It wouldn’t have been difficult. You’ve seen how charming he can be. That motherfucker flirts with **you** nonstop,” I growled irritably as I climbed into bed with her.

“What? Are you _jealous_?” she asked in a gently mocking tone.

“Of course not! It just pisses me off that I have to sit there and do _nothing_ about it. I am NOT good with other people touching my belongings...” I growled. “I almost cast the Avada Kedavra when he kissed your hand… I had to give myself a shocking jinx to keep from rushing into the circle…”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yeah…”

“Gods, you really are fucking crazy,” she murmured as she climbed on top of me. I swelled instantly as the smooth, flawless skin of her chest pressed against my own rough hide.

“You’re the fucking crazy one…” I purred, taking her firmly by the hips and rubbing her soaking wet cunt against my erection. “But you’re **my** little psycho… And no one else is EVER going to touch you… I’d sooner die than let another man put his filthy hands on your sweet, innocent, succulent body…”

I reached between us, adjusting myself so that I slid effortlessly into her scorching heat. I moaned deliriously as her incredible warmth made my head spin.

“I AM yours. All yours… To do whatever you want with…” she gasped breathily as she moved her hips against mine, “I’m your apprentice, your servant, _your_ _property_ , Master Snape… I live to serve you, I live to fulfill your whims,”

“I am a slave to your desires, Master...”

“ _Severus._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little FYI: 
> 
> In my AU, Harry doesn't have a piece of Voldemort's soul inside of him. I just always found that little plot twist to be unearned, narratively-speaking. 
> 
> It shouldn't be so simple to accidentally make a horcrux. Otherwise, people would risk creating them every time they killed someone, and there would be random horcruxes all over the place that no one even knows about. There'd be dozens of immortal wizards walking around all over the place!
> 
> It just doesn't make any sense to me. So in this story, there are six horcruxes and that's it.


	47. SCRAM (Hermione)

I couldn’t believe our next stroke of good luck when Severus wrote to me in the notebook three evenings later. Nagini had apparently been injured during the attack in the Forest of Dean. It wasn’t catastrophic, and she would heal eventually, but she was clearly in a lot of pain and having trouble eating and getting around in the meantime.

So the Dark Lord had requested that Severus brew a potion specifically designed for her. She was an exceedingly rare breed of Python that only lived in a tiny, remote part of the Amazon Rain Forest, so not a single magical creature caretaker in England was familiar with how to treat her. Severus was the only Death Eater with the skills to invent such a thing, and furthermore, the only person that He trusted enough to do the research properly and determine what potion ingredients would and wouldn’t be safe for her to imbibe.

Severus and I were able to collaborate on our research through the notebook fairly easily, and we threw together a half-dozen possible recipes within a couple of days. Severus set to work attempting to brew them, reporting back to me with facts and figures about how and when things had gone wrong. Then I researched and proposed a number of improvements to that potion while he was attempting the next speculative recipe. This super-efficient method of recipe development resulted in a finished, stable product in a truly impressive six days.

It was a genius concoction, if I do say so myself. Not only would it block Nagini’s pain, but had mild stimulant properties that would make her appear to be even healthier than _before_ she took the medicine. Meanwhile, Nagini would be receiving micro-doses of Basilisk venom for the entire two weeks it would take to finish the flask of potion. Basilisks are closely-related enough to her species that she is completely immune to the venom... That little piece of Voldemort’s soul inside her wouldn’t be quite so lucky, however. Our hope was that the micro-doses would destroy the horcrux slowly and gradually enough that by the time He realized he couldn’t control her anymore, it would be far too late to do anything about it...

 

I was pretty sure I was dying the first time I got summoned by the Dark Lord. I knew that Severus’s Dark Mark burned horribly when he was called. But he had never described how uniquely excruciating it was. It felt as if my entire arm was being burned off with liquid nitrogen, or like I had reached into a lit pottery kiln up to my shoulder.

And he had also failed to mention that the damned thing didn’t STOP burning until you knelt in front of Voldemort. It took me so long to get into my complicated Death Eater robes that I was right on the verge of fainting by the time I stumbled into Malfoy Manor. I only made it into the Ballroom because Severus had been waiting by the front door to essentially carry me the rest of the way.

I could tell immediately that this was going to be a very uncomfortable Lieutenant's Gathering. I shifted nervously from one foot to the other in my spot next to Severus while we all watched Rowle try to make his way into the Ballroom. He had lost both of his legs during the attack in the Forest, and was now getting around in a magical wheelchair. His problem was that he couldn’t use his wand to control the chair at the same time he used it to hold open the door. So he was struggling as we all stood by and watched impotently.

I wanted to go help him so badly- the visual was just so pathetic- but the Dark Lord wouldn’t allow it. When Rowle finally joined us in the circle, I was flushed with second-hand embarrassment. The Dark Lord’s lip curled in disgust as he addressed the crippled man, “Whatever has become of you, Thorfinn?”

“My Lord, this disability means nothing! I can still serve you just as faithfully as I always have!” he stammered.

“Is that so? You’ve clearly made no progress...”

“It’s only been a week, My Lord! It will just take me some time to adjust!”

Voldemort gesticulated wildly, “That’s precisely my problem- I don’t HAVE any time, Thorfinn! The Order has gone on the offensive! I NEVER foresaw this moment. Dumbledore was always such a weakling before! Always too scared to make a move on me…”

He pleaded tearfully, “Please, My Lord! Even if I can’t serve you physically any longer, I still have value to you! I can advise you! I can help you!”

“Your value has never been in your mind, Thorfinn,” he sneered cruelly. “I have Severus and Hermione now. They’ve forgotten more about magic than you’ll ever know. You were a warrior. A general. And now look at you… No, you have no value to me any longer.”

The despicable man wept like a child, covering his red face with his hands. “Please, My Lord! I’ve lost everything… My wife left me a year ago… My family fortune has been depleted to practically nothing… My legs are gone... And my cock doesn’t even work anymore! Please! Please…”

Voldemort looked at his fingernails, picking at a cuticle with a bored expression on his face, “You know the two options, Thorfinn. What will it be?”

“I can’t forget all this! I can’t forget you, Master! Being a Death Eater is all I’ve ever been good at! I got two NEWTS… I got kicked out of the Minis-” The Dark Lord didn’t even let him finish his sentence. He flicked his wand with a hauntingly casual, “Avada Kedavra.”

The body just barely slumped over in the wheelchair, perfectly silent. “Get this out of my sight…” he hissed, waving his hand imperiously. Lucius strode forward, wheeling the corpse out of the room with this head lowered in deference.

I took one deep breath after another, desperately trying to calm my pounding heart. I was sure that He was going to hear it. Lucius reappeared within five minutes, taking his spot next to Severus once again.

“Well, now that the trash has been taken out, let’s get down to business!” the Dark Lord announced pleasantly, grinning over at the three of us. “It seems that I find myself with yet another vacancy in my Officer’s Circle! Any suggestions?”

“My Lord, I believe there is only one possible candidate. It is obvious that the Order has infiltrated our ranks. With a single exception, the only people I trust are standing here right now,” Severus rattled off smoothly.

“Yes, I feel the same way, my boy,” the Dark Lord purred affectionately, “Narcissa is clearly the only person outside this room that can be trusted. We all saw how furious she was at her sister’s betrayal... There’s no possible way she was involved. However, this leads to my next problem: I am now lacking a general. The Order has stepped up their game, and I need to return their move with interest. Furthermore, those bastards are fighting dirty- using muggle weaponry like a bunch of savages. So how are we to defend ourselves against this new threat?”

“This is where I come in, Master,” I asserted passionately as a wild idea popped into my head, “This is right in my wheelhouse. Being muggle-born, I’m practically an expert. First of all, we need to make sure YOU are safe, My Lord. I trust you are familiar with guns?”

He shrugged vaguely, “They’re like metal wands the muggles use to kill each other, right?”

“Yeah, sure. Close enough. The point is, there’s no spell that can stop a bullet fired from a gun. A bullet moves exponentially faster than a curse. If an Order member masquerading as a Death Eater shot a gun at you from their place in the circle, you’d never even have a chance to defend yourself. You would be dead before you could even _touch_ your wand.”

“So what am I to do then?!” he asked anxiously, fear apparent behind those slit-pupiled eyes. “Is there some item of clothing I can wear to protect myself?”

“No, there’s nothing like that,” I lied through my teeth. “But I believe Severus and I could brew something up… A potion to make your skin impossible to penetrate or something…” I mused.

Severus broke in then, “Yes, My Lord! I believe this is absolutely possible! I already have a dozen ideas popping into my head!”

He nodded his head seriously, “Very well. The potion Nagini has been taking the last week has obviously had extraordinary benefits. She’s acting just like a teenager again- huge appetite, extremely active- she even ignores my commands sometimes. Just like when she was going through her rebellious period!” He chuckled with warmth and affection; I shuddered, completely creeped out.


	48. War Pigs/ Luke's Wall (Severus)

‘Here’s what I don’t understand: what does the Dark Lord want with Hogwarts, anyway? He says he needs you there so that he can have access to the students for blackmail or whatever. But he’s hardly even done that. That half-assed attempt to kidnap some of us off the train is it.’ Hermione’s precise handwriting scratched along the open notebook beside me on the lab bench.

I set the cauldron to simmer as I grabbed my quill, ‘I was wondering that myself. It’s not as if He’s all that interested in re-education efforts or anything like that. He’s commanded me to make a few changes to the curriculums, but he hasn’t done any follow-through to see if I actually did it. When my fake torture failed to return any benefits, he just dropped it. He clearly has ZERO interest in what I’m doing as Headmaster. So what the fuck am I still doing here? He’s been angry enough to kill me half-a-dozen times in the past year alone. But he hasn’t. It’s not as if he likes me all that much. So I ask again, why the fuck am I still here?'

‘He must trust you to protect Hogwarts. But protect it from what, I wonder?’ she replied.

I got up and paced across the room, taking a couple quick hits from a bowl packed with a pure Sativa strain that sat on my desk. As I exhaled slowly, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling, I had an epiphany. I practically sprinted across the room. My handwriting was sloppy as I scrawled hurriedly, ‘What if it’s not Hogwarts he wants protected?! What if it’s something INSIDE Hogwarts???”

Hermione’s lettering was huge as she scribbled, ‘Oh my gods you really think there’s a horcrux hidden there????’

‘Why not? It makes sense. Hogwarts was the only place that ever felt like a home to him… I know because it was the same for me. If I had to choose somewhere for a piece of my soul to live forever… I can’t think of anywhere better.’

‘But where could it be hidden?’ she asked after a long pause.

‘I could be wrong, but I do have an idea… I have a question for you, Miss Granger: Where is EVERYTHING hidden?’

 

Unfortunately, we couldn’t begin our search for the Horcrux immediately. I had two different experimental potions brewing, my 7th and 8th attempts at the Dark Lord’s “Bulletproof Potion”. This was obviously not its **actual** purpose- seeing as that’s completely impossible. Instead, Hermione and I were collaborating on an altered version of the Roundtrip Potion we had developed that summer to help Dumbledore.

Our problems emerged as we tried to merge that recipe with the one for the “Draught of Animae Densit”. Animae Densit is an incredibly complicated potion (involving a large number of illegal ingredients) that serves only one purpose- preparing the soul for the creation of a horcrux. In extremely simplified terms, the potion causes all the life energy inside a wizard’s body to become attracted to itself, eventually forming a highly-condensed cloud inside their lungs. A number of complicated spells are involved in actually cleaving away and transferring a piece of the soul into the intended vessel, but that wasn’t important to us.

Our ultimate goal was to combine the soul- _compacting_ capabilities of Densit with the soul- _expelling_ qualities of Roundtrip. I didn’t even know if such a thing was possible. Hermione and I had isolated the most active ingredients in the Densit: human fetal blood, Spleenwort squeezings, powdered Unicorn hoof, Erumpent urine, dried hyphae from the Virgin’s Tears mushroom, and, most crucially, Dementor Essence.

When I was explaining it to my DADA students, I compared Dementor magic to the special enzyme in a leech’s saliva that numbs your skin and keeps the blood from clotting. The Essence creates the feeling that overtakes your body when the Dementor is close- that freezing sensation is your body being numbed to hide the pain of your life energy literally being ripped from your cells and sucked out through your lungs.

My troubles came when I tried to combine this highly-reactive ingredient with the Psilocybin mushrooms from the Roundtrip. I attempted over and over again to control the inevitable resulting explosion, but nothing I tried worked. None of my old standbys made any difference- Suppression Charms, Oxygen Removal Jinxes, not even the Encapsulation Charm that had worked so well for the Triad Potions. I got so desperate that I even tried using the Elder Wand, but it had failed me too.

I added carefully measured doses of diced Psilocybin to the little, fist-sized cauldrons. I placed a Time-Dilation Charm on one brew, and a Gravity Hex on the other. I was sitting at my desk, smoking gloomily when two sudden, ground-shaking “BOOM!!”s sounded in rapid succession, rattling my terrariums on their shelves. The mushrooms had finished dissolving into the potions. I sighed and cursed under my breath, slumping across the room to clean up yet another mess.

 

I snuck the Golden Trio into the castle under the cover of night a couple days later. I had been completely unsuccessful at searching the Room of Requirement by myself, so I was forced to bring in backup. We were nearly five hours into the quest when I saw a huge shower of sparks from the far North-Eastern corner of the room. It took me nearly ten minutes to sprint over, zig-zagging around piles and blundering down crooked aisles.

I slid to a halt beside the three of them, panting and sweating. Harry was pointing at a silvery shape, covered with dozens of glimmering blue jewels, that rested atop a pile a good twenty meters above our heads. “Goddamnit…” I grumbled, running my hand irritably through my hair.

“That’s gotta be it… It wouldn’t come when I summoned, so it’s gotta be special…” Harry was muttering to his friends.

“I think you’re right. Literally everything I’ve summoned has come to me, no matter how high up or heavy it was,” Hermione replied thoughtfully.

“How the hell are we supposed to reach it?!” Weasley asked.

“I saw some brooms down that way a couple aisles…” Harry started to say, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

“Hell no,” I said in a scolding tone, “If brooms are hidden in _here_ , then there’s clearly something wrong with them. There’s no fucking way Hermione is getting on one of those… Anyway, I can get it. Just give me a second.” I clutched my wand tightly in my fist, taking a half-dozen deep breaths to calm my pounding heart.

I closed my eyes, reciting a sing-song incantation to myself, “Quod lux a pluma, Sicut avis ad volatum, Quod lux a pluma, Sicut avis ad volatum, Quod lux a pluma…”

My throat clenched with anxiety as I felt my feet leave the floor. I kept my eyes shut tight as I gradually rose higher and higher.

I continued singing the incantation- louder and louder as my nerves mounted.

When I felt like I had probably risen far enough, I just barely opened my eyes, squinting through my dark lashes at the pile that rose like a cliff-face before me. I quickly realized that the diadem was below me, so I gulped hard, trying not to look down as I concentrated on gently dropping a few meters.

I flapped the sleeves of my cloak like the wings of a bat, and I was propelled forward into the pile. I bumped against it, and the pile teetered ominously. A couple dozen books tumbled to the ground, and the crash echoed ominously around the cavernous room.

I sent a prayer of thanks to the gods when nothing else was dislodged. I yanked the diadem out from under the broken statue it was partially wedged beneath, then dropped to the ground far quicker than was probably prudent.

I fell to my knees when I reached solid ground; my legs were too shaky from adrenaline to hold my weight.

“HOLY BALLS, YOU CAN FLY??!!” Harry shouted, rushing over.

“THAT WAS THE COOLEST FUCKING THING I’VE EVER SEEN!!!” Weasley exalted.

“Did the Dark Lord teach you that?” Hermione asked, kindly helping me to my feet and letting me lean heavily against her.

“Yes. I don’t do well with heights, though, so I hardly ever use it…” I shuddered, then quickly changed the subject. “Now, let’s get this to my lab and destroy it. I don’t dare use Fiendfyre in here- this place would go up like a powder keg if it managed to get away from me.”

 

Three days later, the four of us found ourselves once again assembled in my laboratory. Hermione had been summoned by the Dark Lord earlier in the evening, and wanted to report back to me. Apparently, Nagini had been completely ignoring Him, not listening to his instructions, not coming when she was called, trying to eat people in their sleep...  in other words, behaving exactly like a normal snake.

“So we can finally do it!” she announced, walking back and forth across the room, full of nervous energy, “We can finally finish our plan to kill him!”

“But how?!” I lamented, “I can’t get the damn potion to work… Without it, there’s no guarantee we can completely destroy what’s left of his soul! That husk he gets around in isn’t his real body… It’s just a **_thing_** , created by Wormtail’s dark magic. It’s practically a horcrux itself. If we don’t destroy the soul properly, there’s always a chance it could escape. And a Death Eater could use dark magic to grow him another body! It wouldn’t end the war, just drag it out a few more years..."

“There has to be something we’re missing…” Harry pondered, getting up to pace along with Hermione.

“What about the snitch?” Weasley piped up nervously, looking around for support. “What if it has something to do with it?”

Harry pulled it out of his pocket, staring at it moodily as its little wings buzzed like a hummingbird’s, “It doesn’t do anything though. Just floats there- being a snitch…”

“Well, snitches have sense memories to ensure there’s no doubt about who caught it first,” I said, “So it should theoretically open at your touch.”

“But it doesn’t!” he huffed grumpily, then his eyes widened behind his glasses. “OH MY GOD!!” he shouted, snatching it out of the air. “I didn’t catch it with my HAND! I nearly swallowed the damn thing, remember?!” He laughed, obviously humiliated with himself, then pressed the cold metal to his lips.

“LOOK! Writing’s showing up!” Weasley cried, scrambling across the couch to look over Harry’s shoulder. “I open at the close,” he read aloud, frowning incredulously, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I think I know!” shouted Harry excitedly, then pressed it to his lips once again. “The horcruxes are all destroyed.”

The room was dead silent- I could hear the tiny, distinct click as the snitch broke open. Harry tipped the snitch over, and an angular, cracked black stone fell into his open palm. I recognized it immediately. _That bastard accidentally turned a fucking DEATHLY HALLOW into a HORCRUX? What are the chances?!_

“Is that the…” Hermione started to ask, but I spoke over her, “Yes! It must be the Resurrection Stone!”

“Holy shit…” Weasley muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “So we seriously have all three Deathly Hallows inside this room right now?”

“Yeah, I guess that makes us Masters of Death!” Harry joked sarcastically. “It’s funny. I thought being ‘invincible’ would make me feel a bit taller.”

“Well, are you gonna use it?” Hermione asked curiously.

“I dunno… I feel like it would be like when I found the Mirror of Erised… I don’t think I’d ever be able to walk away...”

I was struck by his show of newfound maturity. “That’s a very good attitude to have, my boy. You’re finally learning to know yourself and recognize your own weakness.” I was utterly flabbergasted to find myself feeling pride for the young man.

I was even more shocked when he held out his open hand to me, “Here, Professor. You should use it. You never got to say goodbye to my mum, right? Well, now you can.”

I furiously blinked away the tears in my eyes, snatching the stone out of his hand and turning away abruptly. “We’ll give you some privacy…” Hermione whispered, grabbing the fronts of the boys’ shirts and dragging them through the bookcase into my old, empty quarters.

I stared at the glassy black stone in my palm for a long moment, examining the triangular symbol, then turned it over thrice before I could second-guess my choices.

I looked up slowly, chest tight with purest dread.

I shuddered, falling to my knees as I took in the sight of Lily Evans- just as beautiful as the day I met her. She was blue-ish and indistinct, but there was no mistaking her.

My throat made an involuntary whining sound as I crawled toward her on my knees.

Tears streamed into my beard as I reached for her, but my hand passed right through the knees of her robes. “Oh, poor Sev…” she crooned, looking down at me with her eyes full of empathy, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, Lily!” I wailed, raking my fingernails down my face in abject misery. “I killed you! You’re dead because of me! Your son grew up an orphan because of me! I stole your entire life from you, Lily!!! I’m sorry… so sorry… so sorry...”

I wept like a child, tightly curled into the fetal position on the cold marble floor. Her voice was light and musical as she soothed me, “Oh, Sev… Has that really been eating you up all these years? James and I were very active in the Order, you know. He was going to come for us eventually. Whatever you did… It’s okay. It’s all forgiven. You’ve protected our son all these years… I bet you can’t even count all the times you’ve saved his life, right?”

I just nodded in silence.

“You can’t live your life like this, Sev. You’ve more than atoned for your sins. Please tell me you haven’t been punishing yourself for the last 16 years…”

I shrugged noncommittally.

“You know that’s not what I would have wanted. You deserve to have a life full of love, and joy, and peace. After everything you’ve been through… you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

I wiped away my tears, swallowing the lump in my throat to finally speak, “I am in love, you know… True love… Not like the crush I had on you…”

The smile that spread across her face was absolutely radiant, “That’s so wonderful, Sev!! I can’t even **tell** you how incredibly happy I am for you! Is she smart?! Big bookworm?!”

I nodded, grinning through my tears, “Ohhh yeah. Big time. And she’s fucked up in all the same ways I am, so it works out.”

“That’s fantastic news! I’m so very pleased... You need someone who will take care of you now that I’m gone. I trust she can handle such a difficult job?” she asked, teasing me gently.

“Oh definitely. She keeps me in line,” I grinned back at her, finally pulling myself back to my feet.

“Well, there’s someone else here who wants to talk to you…” she said as her form slowly began to flicker and fade. “But it was wonderful to see you, Sev. I’m so glad you’ve found someone who can appreciate what a kind, thoughtful, generous man you are. No deserves it more than you. Goodbye, my dear sweet Severus. Love ya, loser.”

Like the Cheshire Cat, her brilliant smile was the last thing to vanish, and at the last possible moment, I whispered back, “Love ya, loser...”

I wasn’t the least bit surprised to turn around and see Dumbledore appearing to lounge casually on the couch by the fireplace. “Hey, old man,” I greeted him not-unkindly, striding over to sit beside him.

“I can’t even express how incredibly proud I am of you, my boy. You never fail to exceed my expectations.”

“What do you mean?! I can’t even figure out how to defeat the Dark Lord!” I agonized, pulling at my meticulously-groomed beard.

“That’s not true at all. You’ve already developed the potion you need.”

“But I can’t get it to work! My magic isn’t powerful enough to contain the explosion!”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, eyes twinkling cleverly behind those half-moon spectacles.

Frustration got the better of me, and I shouted, “No, it bloody well isn’t!!! I even tried to use the Elder Wand, and it didn’t do any better than my own wand! Clearly, it doesn’t recognize me as its master!”

“Maybe not… So if it doesn’t belong to you, who does that leave?”

“So you’re saying _Hermione_ is the true owner of the Elder Wand?” I asked, dumbstruck.

“Not at all. Neither one of you were solely responsible for my defeat. You did it together.”

“So we’re BOTH the master?!” I postulated incredulously.

“I would imagine so… I believe it will only show its true power when the two of you are united, single-mindedly trying to achieve a given goal.”

“Holy shit…” I breathed in wonder, then demanded suspiciously, “How is it that you’re able to tell me all this? Lily didn’t have this much information…”

The ghostly blue figure just shrugged, smiling brightly over at me. “You’re just a projection of my own mind, aren’t you?! Is this even really happening right now, or is it just in my head?!”

Albus began to fade, and I could just barely make out his final words, “Of course it’s all happening in your head, Severus. But whyever should that mean it’s not real?”


	49. Tempest (Hermione)

Severus and I managed to complete the “Bulletproof Potion” that very night, cheered on by Harry and Ron. We had finally gotten the Elder Wand to work by lacing our fingers together and holding it that way. It took a bit of practice, but before too long, we were doing the most incredible charms and transfigurations any of us had ever seen.

It was a most remarkable sensation... I could feel the tendrils of his magic twining around my wrist, flowing through my bloodstream and straight to my heart, then spreading throughout my entire body. After a while, it was almost as if I could read his mind, since his magic was so closely tied to his emotions. I could feel his elation bubbling in my chest as we created the most glorious fireworks together... His jealousy roiling unpleasantly in my stomach when Ron stood just a little too close behind me... His anxiety was like a vice around my throat as we added the mushrooms to the potion and erected a bubble jinx around the tiny cauldron.

The potion blew up right on schedule, but our ultra-powerful barrier was able to keep the vast majority of it from spilling out of the cauldron. We finished the final steps of our improvised recipe with bated breath. Harry and Ron didn’t even speak, just stood off to the side of the lab bench like marble statues, watching us with rapt attention.

I held the funnel for him as he carefully decanted the vibrant, grass-green elixir into a small vial. “Are we not going to test it on a rat?” I asked when he was finished securing the cork with a bit of sealing wax.

“No, there’s not enough. We need every last drop inside of Him.”

I trailed after him as he headed to the Owlery to send it off. “But what if it doesn’t work?” I fretted, biting at a jagged cuticle as we circled higher and higher on the spiral staircase.

“We just have to hope that it will. We need to think positive. Trust ourselves, our own minds,” he asserted optimistically.

“Who are you and what have you done with Severus Snape?” I joked.

He paused on the top stop, turning around to stare down at me with a thoughtful expression on his face, “I don’t know. I don’t feel like the same man anymore… No, I’m NOT the same man anymore.”

I looked down nervously, avoiding his eyes, “I guess talking to Lily was nice, huh?”

“I suppose so. Intellectually, I know that I was just talking to a projection of my own thoughts… It wasn’t _really_ her. But there was something healing about hearing her say she forgives me, you know? I can let her memory go. She can finally, _truly_ rest in peace.”

I teared up, sniffling quietly, “I’m really happy for you…”

He reached down, hooking his hands under my arms and effortlessly pulling me up to him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, burying my face in the silky hair that flowed over his shoulder. He held me tightly to his chest, pressing dozens of kisses onto my wild curls.

“I love you, Hermione,” he pronounced forcefully.

“I love you too,” I whimpered, trying to hide my tears.

“Please don’t cry, my darling. You have absolutely nothing to cry about! Nothing! Seeing her only reminded me of how lucky I am to have found you… I told her about you. She was so pleased- said I deserved to be happy. Don’t you agree?” he asked.

I leaned back so I could look into his jewel-black eyes, “Of course I do. You deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

He gave me an adorably crooked smile, quipping, “Well, lucky for you- turns out everything I’ve ever wanted is right here in my arms.”

I blushed, brushing my lips against his for a sweet, lingering moment. Then he suddenly pressed my back to the stone wall, grinding his erection needfully against me.

I reached between us, scrabbling with the front of his trousers, finally releasing him after a long struggle.

He pinned me against the wall with his hips briefly, using his hands to yank up the bottom of my skirt. He pushed aside my underwear, and his cock slid into me with no further effort.

I panted and gasped as he slammed his hips into me at a furious pace. I dug my nails into his shoulder and neck as I struggled to hold on. His death grip on my thighs was definitely leaving bruises, but I couldn’t have cared less.

“Oh, gods, yes, Severus! Harder! Fuck me harder! Oh, gods, I love you! I love you!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as he grunted like a galloping stallion.

All too soon, he was letting out a long, drawn-out moan, and I felt his fluid dripping down my inner thighs. He set me reluctantly back on my feet when I reminded him about why’d we come up here in the first place. He absolutely hated having quickies when I didn’t get a chance to come, but I promised him he could make it up to me later.

He was in the process of trying to persuade one of the lazy school owls to come down from the rafters when I happened to glance out the window at the Southern horizon. “Umm… Severus? What’s _that_?” I asked uneasily, pointing at what appeared to be a small, black cloud- except that it was speeding towards us at an impossible clip.

He squinted, peering through the moonless gloom, then shouted, “Dozens of owls! It’s got to be an evening edition of the Prophet… Which means big, urgent news!!”

My stomach dropped, “No...” I whispered pleadingly.

“Damnit!!!” Severus bellowed, running off down the stairs, taking them two at a time. I had to sprint to keep up with him as he positively flew down the corridors.

I almost tripped over him as we skidded to a halt in front of the The Degloving. He barrelled through his lab like a bull in a china shop, scaring the crap out of the boys. “The Dark Lord…. has installed... his puppet minister!” he panted, riffling through our desk drawers for two sets of Death Eater robes as I leaned against the lab bench for support.

“What?! But I thought they were going to become a war council?!” Harry demanded.

“No, that was never going to happen! It was just a stalling tactic to keep the Wizengamut embroiled in debates for a few weeks. You-Know-Who already had too many seats… He was always going to win no matter what,” I explained hastily, then shrieked in sudden anguish, clutching my left arm.

“FUUUUCCCKKK!!!” Severus slammed his fist into his desktop repeatedly, leaving behind a smear of his own blood, looking completely mental. “He’s calling us- there’s going to be a celebration tonight! A Revel!”

My stomach clenched, and I bent over, unexpectedly and abruptly emptying the contents of my stomach all over the beautiful granite floor.

I stumbled backward, wiping dazedly at my mouth and staring at my hands. My ears buzzed loudly, and I couldn’t make out anything the guys were saying to each other.

I tripped over something, fell on my ass, then curled into a ball, cradling my burning arm to my chest...

My mind was a complete blank, nothing existed in the whole entirety of the universe but the scorching fire engulfing my being…

I was vaguely aware of the boys sprinting out of the laboratory, Harry carrying a familiar-looking keyring in his hand…

Severus’s hands were all over me, tenderly but quickly undressing me, then pulling my Death Eater robes over my shoulders. He cradled me in his arms, carrying me out of the dungeons and nearly sprinting across the grounds. It wasn’t until we were outside Malfoy Manor that he forced me to stand on my own two feet. But he kept his hand tightly wrapped around my waist, keeping me supported, as I blundered into the Ballroom.

There were already dozens of people there when we burst through the doors, and I began to hyperventilate as identical masque after identical masque turned to stare at us. Even with our own masques on, it seemed that everyone knew who we were. Severus’s voice rang out, echoing ominously off the high ceilings, “Albus Dumbledore is dead! The secret-keeper is dead!”

The Dark Lord strode forward, and the sea of Death Eaters parted for him like Moses, “Explain yourselves,” he leered delightedly.

“We can enter the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix! I can tell you the address, My Lord!”

“A Revel has been called tonight, Severus. Surely this can wait?” he asked silkily, eyeing me with hunger in his serpent eyes. Bile welled up in my throat, and it was all I could do to swallow it back down.

“We must hit them tonight, before they can place new enchantments! **This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!** ” Severus bellowed, making sure the entire room could hear him. Bloodthirsty curses and calls for vengeance sounded in every direction.

Lucius strode forward with Narcissa on his heels, “We must go, My Lord. We have to strike back. Let the Order know they won’t get away with what they did to us in the Forest of Dean. We have to make them pay.”

Narcissa broke in, “Yes, My Lord! We must strike while the iron’s hot! There’s no time to plan, we just need to act!”

He looked over at me curiously, inquiring, “And what does my fourth Officer have to say?”

Severus began, “She was injured in our atta-” but I spoke over him, quietly and clearly, “I say we get our fucking revenge.” Cheers of approval and cries of “Hear! Hear!” rang out all around.

“Very well. I want the Inner Circle only- I have a feeling it’s going to be a tight squeeze. The rest of you, enjoy yourselves tonight. Soon we shall return triumphant, bearing the head of Harry Potter on a pike!!”


	50. No Quarter (Severus)

I reached into my robes as we exited the Ballroom, discreetly passing the little vial of potion to the Dark Lord. “I just barely completed it in time, Master,” I muttered sotto voce. He peeled off the wax and tossed it back without a word. He nodded approvingly, then frowned, holding his stomach with a pained look on his face. “It’s a bit hard on the digestive tract, but I tested it in multiple animal models, and it worked like a charm,” I whispered. He grimaced and waved me off.

I slowed my pace, holding Hermione’s masque for her as she tried to tie back her tangled mop of hair. I could tell that she was desperately trying to occlude as the twelve of us filed down the main corridor of Malfoy Manor, following the Dark Lord. I held her hand, not even caring that the rest of the Inner Circle could see. _If all goes according to plan, none of them will be alive tomorrow to ridicule me about it._

I spoke loudly and forcefully as we all crowded together on the front lawn, “The address is 12 Grimmauld Place, London. Occupancy of the house varies widely on a day-to-day basis. If we’re incredibly lucky, we’ll hit in the middle of a meeting and can exterminate every last one of the blood-traitor bastards. But our worst case scenario is still pretty damn good... Potter is confirmed to be in residence _at_ _all times_. They won’t even let him leave the house!” I howled with riotous laughter then, and the rest of the Inner Circle joined me in kind, some starting chants and blasting fireworks into the air.

The Dark Lord allowed our rabble-rousing to go on for a few minutes before raising his hand for silence. “I will take point, flanked by Granger and Snape. Malfoy and Malfoy, I want you bringing up the rear. The rest of you, you’re going to be peeling off individually to search rooms. This place is going to be big, and dark, and messy, so keep your eyes peeled and don’t take any stupid risks. There’s only the one exit, so they should be nice and easy to pin down. Disapparate on my count. Three…

Two…

One…

NOW!!!”

 

The Inner Circle moved with impeccable precision, flooding through the house like a silent wave of black-cloaked death.

But we found one empty room after another in the main floor and basement, combing through dank closets and chests, casting wordless Antidisillusionment Charms in every direction. We convened in the library to reassess. The Dark Lord cast a Hominem Revelio, crowing gleefully when it revealed a single sign of life far above us.

Hermione and I crept up the stairs, practically trodding on the train of the Dark Lord's cloak, as I prayed that my memory was as good as I thought it was. _I swear I put it in the green plastic tote right up front by the storage unit door with the label ‘Parents Closet’. I know I did. PLEASE MERLIN LET ME BE RIGHT!!!_

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ I was proud that Hermione’s hand was surprisingly dry and steady in my own. I desperately wished I could see her face as we tiptoed down the 3rd floor hallway to Sirius's bedroom.

The Dark Lord’s silent charm revealed a single living person on the other side of the closed door. He gestured for the four Officers to follow him while the others kept watch in the hall.

He cast a lightning-quick wordless Silencio charm as the door began to creak, then pushed it the rest of the way without another sound.

 _Damn, Minerva. I guess you really are as amazing at Transfiguration as you always say you are._ Harry Potter was curled up on his side, resting peacefully beneath the blankets. I could just make out the silvery scar beneath his mop of black hair as the five of us gradually, noiselessly, circled the large four-poster bed. I just barely held back a smirk when I noticed that the spectacles on the bedside table were shaped like half-moons, rather than Potter’s usual circular glasses.

The Dark Lord’s hand shook with excitement as he held the tip of his wand mere inches from the boy’s forehead. He couldn’t seem to be able to help himself, and hissed with a quietly dramatic flair, “I have waited for this day for so long… 16 years of exile… 16 years of waiting… And now I finally take back what’s mine. **_AVADA KEDAVRA!!!!_ ** ”

His roar echoed hauntingly through the empty house for a few interminable seconds.

I cast a quick Diagnostic Charm on the body, ripping off my masque and tossing it into the air triumphantly when the body showed no signs of life. “HE’S DONE IT! THE DARK LORD HAS DESTROYED HARRY POTTER!!!” I shouted, grabbing Hermione and swinging her around and around as she laughed and cried tears of joy.

The Death Eaters celebrated- tossing their masques into the air, setting off bangs and blinding flashes with their wands. I pretended to be kissing Hermione’s neck, whispering frantically, “It’s not him! It’s Dumbledore’s body. It’s okay!”

She threw her head back as I pulled aside the neck of her robes, leaving love bites along her clavicle. “I know…” she breathed.

The Dark Lord quickly called for order, instructing everyone who wasn’t an Officer to return to the party immediately and spread the wonderful news. The rest of us would follow soon, bearing Potter’s body in pieces.

Once I could hear the Death Eaters stampeding down the stairs, I turned to Him, smiling broadly and genuinely.

“Hey, Tom, I just realized something!” I exclaimed, voice positively bubbling with mirth.

His eyes narrowed, and he hissed dangerously, “What the hell did you just call me?!”

I could just barely make out the muffled pandemonium of the Death Eaters running straight into an ambush in the Entry Hall three stories below. I put my hand over my mouth in mock horror, “I just realized I forgot to test that potion! I sure do hope it works… Better give it a go now- POTTER!!!”

Four deafening ‘CRACK!’s sounded in rapid succession, leaving me surprisingly dizzy and with a persistent, painful ringing in my ears. Hermione’s grandfather’s WWII service pistol hit the floor with a weighty thump, seeming to appear out of nowhere.

Voldemort dragged his skeletal hands along the front of his robes in slow motion, holding them in front of his face in disbelief.

As the ringing in my head faded, I could just begin to make out a steady ‘drip, drip, drip’ as the rust-coloured puddle between his feet quickly spread across the oak floor to soak into the bedroom rug.

He suddenly collapsed, pressing his hands desperately to the weeping holes in his chest. I could hear a nauseating, wet, sucking sound- obviously one of his lungs had been punctured.

Blood bubbled out of his mouth, spilling down his chin as he began to laugh...

His wheezy, gurgling cackle was absolutely haunting, and I fought an irrational urge to cover my ears. “You fools!” he exalted, then fell into a thirty-second coughing fit. He spat out a huge globule of bloody tissue and mucous, and I had to lean forward to make out his slurred words, “You can’t kill me! I have... horcruxes... I’ll be back… then you’ll know... the true... meaning... of fear!”

The Invisibility Cloak fluttered to the floor as Harry stepped forward. He knelt down on the blood-soaked rug so Voldemort could see his face, “Horcruxes, huh? You mean like Nagini? Weird how she hasn’t been listening to you lately, huh?” he asked, pretending to rub his chin thoughtfully.

Slit-pupiled eyes bulged with savage mania;

He let out an unearthly wail;

We all fell to our knees, clutching our hands desperately to the sides of our heads;

It went on and on and on until finally, blessedly, his lungs made one final, horrible, gurgling sound, and he fell silent. I abruptly realized I had been holding the Elder Wand in my right hand when Hermione’s fingers laced into my own. We watched His collapsed chest struggling to rise, shuddering and trembling...

Hermione gasped when a fine, multi-colored mist began to stream, oh-so-gradually, out of the dark wizard’s nose and mouth, propelled gently along by his dying breaths.

The wisps swirled back around on themselves, forming a translucent orb smaller than a snitch, hovering benignly above the corpse it had once inhabited.

“That’s all there is?” Hermione whispered, “That’s all he has left?”

I nodded gravely, lifting our conjoined hands to wield the infamous Deathstick...

“Harry, I sure hope you’re right about wands being able to figure out what to do on their own…” she whispered shakily as we leveled the wand at the final piece of the Dark Lord’s soul.

I closed my eyes, focusing intently on my purpose- _I need to destroy the Dark Lord’s soul. There can’t be any chance of him ever coming back. I need to destroy the Dark Lord’s soul. There can’t be any chance of him ever coming back..._

I immediately felt Hermione’s magic flowing up my arm, going straight to the heart of me. The sturdy, supple sensation of her power, filling my soul to the brim, soothed me like nothing ever before.

 

I floated on clouds,

 

Surrounded by perfect, flawless, immaculate whiteness in every direction,

 

My mind and body were suffused with light and sublime warmth,

 

I was weightless, careless, fearless,

 

I knew what to do in an instant, like it had always been there, right at the back of my mind, and I could have done it any time, if I had only bothered to try, if I had only bothered to look,

 

It was as easy as breathing,

 

As effortless and swift as a heartbeat,

 

I opened my eyes to see brilliant golden flames pouring out of the end of the Elder Wand, utterly engulfing the little rainbow-colored ball of vapor.

 

It was over in a matter of seconds. As one, we dropped the wand into the pool of blood that was steadily soaking through the knees of our robes. Hermione fell into my arms, burying her face in my chest and weeping quiet tears of relief. I pressed kisses all over her hair, whispering sweet nothings to her.

I noticed, distantly through the fog of unreality clouding my mind, a gagging, hacking noise in the corner, and I glanced over to see Narcissa with a chagrined expression on her face, holding back Lucius’s long blonde hair as he vomited, rather indecorously, in the corner of the room.

I helped Hermione to her feet, and the five of us tottered unsteadily down the stairs in perfect silence. When we made it to the first floor, we had to scramble over eight bodies- in various states of unconsciousness, restraint, and death- to make it to the basement stairs. The rest of the Order of the Phoenix was already assembled in the library when we shuffled in.

Ginevra and Minerva gave low-ball glasses to each of us as we entered, hesitating only a split second before passing ones to the Malfoys as well. Ron Weasley weaved through the room with a bottle of 40-year-old Scotch that probably cost more than a year’s worth of my Headmaster salary. Once everyone had full glasses, all eyes in the room turned to me.

My mind raced, desperately trying to come up with the right thing to say. A poignant speech. Something they would write down in history books and quote for centuries to come.

But I’ve never one for wordiness or excessive sentiment.

So I raised my glass, took a deep breath, and spoke three simple words:

 

 

  
“TO HARRY POTTER.”


	51. Epilogue (Hermione)

4 MONTHS LATER...

 

The floaty, aqua-blue skirt of my dress snags on briars and thorns as I struggle to catch up with him. I call out, begging him to stop, but he keeps plunging further and further into the Forbidden Forest. I cover my head with my arms to protect my fastidiously-arranged curls as I shove through a particularly dense stand of Rhododendron.

My eyes water from the sudden, blinding sunlight as I emerge into a little clearing. The breath catches in my throat as I gaze around in awe. A spring bubbles continuously out of the ground, forming a sparkling vernal pool. He kneels by the side of the pond, examining some species of magical Salamander, looking resplendent in his best dress robes.

When I call his name, he rises and strides over, black velvet cloak billowing impressively behind him. The breeze catches his silky black hair, and he tucks it behind his ear irritably. I reach for him, cupping his bearded cheek gently in my palm, then placing a sweet, innocent kiss on his lips-

-his tongue forces its way into my mouth with demanding urgency. His hand burrows into my hair, grabbing a huge fistful and yanking my head roughly to the side.

I yelp in pain as he twists my hair yet harder, forcing my neck to arch painfully as he violates my mouth.

I gasp for air when he finally allows me a blessed moment of reprieve. My moment of peace isn’t to last, however. I let out another yelp as his palm connects solidly with the side of my face. My ears ring from the force of the contact, but a huge smile breaks out across my face.

I look up at him adoringly, grinning broadly, as he slaps me again.

“Thank you, Master!” I just manage to bleat out before his hands are wrapped around my slender neck.

I fall to my knees, mouth gaping, chest heaving, while I scrabble desperately at the front of his robes. The edges of my vision begin to blur from lack of oxygen as I finally succeed at releasing him. I throw myself onto his cock, not even pausing to breathe.

“That’s my good girl…” he whispers fondly, holding my hair for me. “Suck my cock like the sweet little slut you are…”

I sit on my heels, tilting my head back. Severus spreads his legs and adjusts his angle... I take a deep breath, then _yawn_ , opening my throat as wide as I can..

He growls hungrily, mumbling my name over and over…

I’ve managed to deep-throat him to completion a handful of times by now, but this isn’t my day. When I feel my diaphram start to contract after a few long minutes, I fall back onto the grass.

He smirks down at me, apparently enjoying the image of me sprawled on my back with the skirt of my sundress up around my thighs.

“Show me your tits,” he hisses with a predatory smile.

I sit up and pull my arms through the straps of my dress, allowing the airy fabric to fall to my waist. I haven’t worn a bra, and he licks his lips in appreciation. “Pinch your nipples…” he breathes as he takes his straining prick in his hand.

I give him a nice show- playing with my breasts, then spreading my knees and pulling up my skirt teasingly. I pull aside the crotch of my knickers, showing him my newly hairless pussy.

“Filthy fucking whore…” he is suddenly in my face, on his knees, grabbing me by the hair and forcing me to turn around. He has one hand on the back of my head, forcing my face into the grass, as the other scrambles to pull down my underwear. He wedges apart my thighs with his knee while I pretend to struggle against him. He plunges two fingers into my pussy, fucking me furiously, as I scream and beg him to release me.

I feel the pressure building in my abdomen, and I push _DOWN_ with no further thought, screaming at the top my voice, legs shuddering and quaking, as I soak the ground beneath us.

I try to collapse from exhaustion, but Severus’s swift strike across my bum brings me back to coherence.

He releases his hold on me, ordering me to arch my back and stick my ass into the air. I do as commanded, then pull the bottom of my dress up around my chest for good measure. “Is this okay, Master?” I ask needfully as he lets out a noise of approval.

“Yes, very good, my darling…” his voice sounds strained as he continues to beat off, soaking in this view of me as I smirk over my shoulder at him.

“Please, Master… I need you… I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me…” I whimper, reaching back to spread myself open to him.

I let out a tiny squeak when his mouth presses against me unexpectedly. His tongue plunges into my center, and I reach back, pushing his face against me. I felt bad for a brief moment that his nose is buried in my arse, but then he blows my mind by moving his attentions upward…

It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced... I didn’t know there were even that many nerve endings there! My mind is a dense fog, and I am only dimly aware that a number of filthy things are streaming out of my mouth…

I let out a little whine of disappointment when he pulls back, but I quickly forget my discontent when he thrusts into me roughly and with no further ceremony. I arch my back, putting him at the right angle to rub against my G-spot as I reach between my legs...

I think that I couldn’t possibly handle any more stimulation, but then his thick middle finger is shoving abruptly into my arse…

I scream and cry,

begging for mercy,

begging him to release me...

Then he begins to rain a series of my blows on my bum with his free hand...

The sound of my spankings echoes impressively around the little clearing…

As I feel the waves of my orgasm starting to bear down on me, I begin to shout, fervently and at the very top of my voice, “Yes! Thank you, Master! I love you, Master Snape! Thank you!” over and over and over again until the world falls out of from under me…

I am tossed this way and that on blissful waves...

I am no longer aware of myself...

As an individual...

As a human being...

As anything other than a being of pure, elusive, transcendent pleasure and joy…

But it’s over far too soon, and he finishes with a great, animalistic groan. I relish the sensation of him filling me up, then collapse forward onto the ground. He chuckles warmly, lifting me up and cradling me gently in his arms. He sings a quiet song to me, giving me a few minutes to get my bearings before we have to hike back through the underbrush.

We know our absence will have been noticed, but neither one of us can be bothered to care any longer. Severus kindly picks a few burrs out of my hair as we begin to circle back around the lake. “It was awful sweet of you to host everyone here,” I say to him as I rest my hand in the crook of his arm.

“What do I care? As of three days ago, I am no longer Headmaster of Hogwarts and All Her Holdings. You’re all Minerva’s headache now. Besides, where else could ‘The Golden Trio’s Graduation Party Weekend’ possibly be held? This is the event of the century! Five hundred galleons says there’ll be statues of you in some random hall within a decade.”

I blush, scoffing demurely, “I sincerely doubt that. **Everyone** knows you’re the real hero of the war. I mean, you were the defacto leader of the Order for a long time…” I wave to Draco and Erik, the latter of which is tickling the giant squid’s tentacles, laughing delightedly. It warms my heart to see Draco looking truly happy for the first time… well… EVER. And it gives me hope for the future when I look up the incline and see the elder Malfoys, hands tightly knitted together, deep in polite but excruciatingly awkward conversation with Erik’s delightful parents.

My own parents had been exceedingly relieved when they found out they weren’t going to be the only muggles at my Grad Party. Everyone has been super welcoming, though, so they fit in immediately. My dad has been bogarting little Teddy for hours. Remus and Tonks look pretty exhausted, though, so I don’t think they mind getting a bit of a break. I’m bummed that my parents are only going to be in the country for three weeks, but they’re just so eager to get back to their work in Africa.

I roll my eyes at Severus in mutual amused exasperation when we pass Ginny- who is showing off her ring to something like the hundredth person so far that evening. Harry, being a young man with access to way too much money, had sprung for the most gigantic rock I have ever seen in my entire life. It looks like something a movie starlet would own, but it clearly makes Ginny happy, so I do my best to hide my obvious disdain in front of her.

I elbow Severus in the ribs, pointing across the dance floor to where Ron is bouncing around, dancing crazily with Erik’s twin sister. Her mirth actually looks surprisingly genuine as she cracks up at his antics. Severus raises an eyebrow, communicating wordlessly, and I shrug in response. We both chuckle quietly, turning away as one to face the castle.

It looms ominously above us in the twilight, and I am reminded abruptly of when I’d seen it for the first time as an eleven-year old. As we were sloshing back and forth in those rickety little boats, I had looked around at the faces of my classmates. Invariably, every last face had reflected nothing but fear and trepidation. My own, however, had positively shone with elation. I had nothing to fear. After all, my wildest dream had just come true. I spent my entire childhood knowing I was different, always feeling cut off from the other kids around me. When I found out that a whole new world had been opened to me, it was the greatest joy I have ever known.

I am startled out of my reverie by Severus’s rich, honey-sweet voice in my ear, “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

I sigh sadly, “Yeah, I’m really gonna miss this place. I’m excited about muggle uni and everything, but it’s just not the same…”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be too busy with your Organic Chemistry and Theoretical Physics double major to get too homesick,” he teases, placing an affectionate kiss on my forehead and taking my hand in his.

“It was really nice of my parents to sign over the deed to the house to us, huh? I know they aren’t going to need it for the foreseeable future, but still… It’s definitely going to be a big help to not have to worry about paying rent and everything. Not that I’m going to be struggling for cash- the advance for ghost-writing Harry’s book series is completely insane!” I shake my head in disbelief. “And you’re sure you don’t mind selling your house?”

His elegant brows wrinkle as he frowns down at me incredulously, “Seriously? I’ve come THISCLOSE to burning that fucking shithole to the ground a dozen times. I’m glad to be rid of it. Are **_you_ ** sure you don’t mind living in sin with me?”

I giggle, shoving him playfully, “Shush, you! You know my thoughts on marriage. We’re going to have more than enough to be getting on with for the next few years. These beautiful rings you made are good enough for me. And I think we’ve **both** made enough vows for a while… They haven’t exactly turned out that great for us... I just feel bad cause I know you’re going to miss the castle so much…”

“Of course I am. This is the single greatest place in the entire universe. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than Hogwarts. But I can run my mail-order business from anywhere. Those flyers the twins made for me already have the orders rolling in. I’ve created an entirely new niche market- no one has ever even **heard** of combining muggle and magical medicines. Besides, Slughorn is going to be looking to go back into retirement in a few years. I guarantee the job will be yours for the asking once you’ve finished your Potions Mastership with me. And a few decades down the road, Minerva will be needing replacing as well…”

I blush pleasurably, burying my face in his vest to hide it from him, “You really think I could be Headmaster?! That’s insane!”

He pulls on my hair, forcing me to look up at his mock-serious face. “Hermione, they made me- _SEVERUS FUCKING SNAPE_ \- Headmaster. Clearly, their standards are exceedingly low.”

I crack up in spite of myself, attempting to slap him in mock outrage, but he easily catches and traps my wrists behind my back. We tussle for a few minutes before he pulls me into an embrace and wraps his cloak around my shoulders.

I hear the band pick back up after their break, and the unmistakable first strains of The Beatles’ Ob La Di, Ob La Da float to us on the warm summer breeze.  “Come on, I **know** you love this one! You **have** to dance with me now!” I crow exultantly, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him back down the incline at a dead sprint.

He just sighs with resignation as he trails after me, “Crazy fucking girl…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you all enough for coming along on this journey with me! You have no idea how much it means to me to read your wonderful comments and see your kudos! 
> 
> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!
> 
> I have a BS in Environmental Studies, so this was the first attempt I've made at writing fiction in any form. I had the entire story mapped out before I wrote a single word, so I've wondered approximately a thousand times over the past six months if I was over-estimating my abilities!
> 
> I'm still in a state of total disbelief now that I'm actually done! It wasn't nearly as difficult as I'd expected, so this definitely won't be the last you see from me.
> 
> Here's another link to a playlist of the songs I used for chapter titles: https://play.spotify.com/user/us1461620/playlist/5xlVOc9N0WdFnpPh2RVv7t
> 
>  
> 
> And if you'll just indulge me for a moment... 
> 
> Now more than ever, as we all struggle to understand the people around us, and we wonder what the point of anything even is, I want to leave you guys with a few words from the inimitable and sorely-missed Pterry:
> 
> “All right,” said Susan. “I’m not stupid. You’re saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable.”
> 
> REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.
> 
> “Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—”
> 
> YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.
> 
> “So we can believe the big ones?”
> 
> YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.
> 
> “They’re not the same at all!”
> 
> YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.
> 
> “Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what’s the point—”
> 
> MY POINT EXACTLY. - Susan and Death, The Hogfather


End file.
